N 


'I'll  K 


PUBLIC   LIBRARY 


THE   COMMON   SCHOOLS: 

THREE  PAPERS  ON  EDUCATIONAL  TOPICS. 

I'.Y 

CHARLES    F.    ADAMS,    Jr. 
\ 

I.— THE    PUBLIC    LIBRARY  AND    THE    PUBLIC    SCHOOLS. 

'  II.  — FICTION'  IN  PUBLIC   LIBRARIES,    AND    EDUCATIONAL 
CATALOGUES. 

III.— THE    NEW   DEPARTURE    IN    THE    COMMON   SCHOOLS 
OF    SLUINCY. 


BOSTON: 

EsTES  ANi>  Lauiuat,  No.   301  Washington  Street. 

1879. 


PREFACE. 

As  a  rule  anything  worth  publishing  at  all  should,  I 
think,  explain  itself,  and  stand  in  no  need  of  a  preface. 
In  the  present  case,  however,  I  feel  that  some  apology  is 
necessary  for  my  —  a  mere  amateur  —  offering  to  specialists 
these  discussions  of  matters  relating  to  their  calling.  I 
can  only  say  that  for  quite  a  number  of  years  now  I  have 
been  actively  concerned  in  the  management  of  the  Common 
Schools  and  Public  Library  of  Quincy.  Whether  the  ob- 
servation and  experience  thus  locally  obtained  are  likely 
to  prove  of  any  general  interest,  1  do  not  care  to  discuss ; 
meanwhile,  as  I  may  now  claim  a  speedy  discharge  from 
work  of  this  description,  on  the  ground  of  having  done 
my  full  share,  I  prefer,  for  my  own  satisfaction,  to  put  ou 
file  some  evidence  of  my  ten  years'  participation  in  it. 

Quincy,  August  1,  1879. 


314903 


THE  PUBLIC  LIBRARY  AND  THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS. 


A    PAPER    PREPARED    FOR   THE  TeACHERS     OP    THE   PUBLIC    SCHOOLS 

OF  QuiNCY,  Mass.,  and  read  to  them  on  the  19th  of  May, 

1876. 

As  the  result  of  a  conversation  I  some  time  since  had  with  our 
School  Superintendent,  Mr.  Parker,  and  at  his  suggestion,  I  pro- 
pose this  afternoon  to  say  a  few  words  to  you  about  books  and 
reading ;  on  the  use,  to  come  directly  to  the  point,  which  could  be 
made  of  the  PubUc  Library  of  the  town  in  connection  with  the 
school  system  in  general,  and  more  particularly  with  the  High  and 
upper-grade  Grammar  Schools.  I  say  '■'•could  be  made"  inten- 
tionally, for  I  am  very  sure  that  use  is  not  now  made  ;  and  why  it 
is  not  made  is  a  question  which,  in  my  double  capacitj^  of  a  mem- 
ber of  the  School  Committee  and  a  trustee  of  the  Public  Library, 
I  have  during  the  last  few  3'ears  puzzled  over  a  good  deal. 

You  are  all  teachers  in  the  common  schools  of  the  town  of 
Quincy,  and  I  very  freely  acknowledge  that  I  think  your  course  as 
such,  especially  of  late,  has  been  marked  by  a  good  deal  of  zeal, 
by  a  consciousness  of  progress,  and  a  sincere  desire  to  accompUsh 
good  results.  I  am  disposed  neither  to  find  fault  with  you  nor  with 
our  schools,  —  as  schools  go.  I  should  like,  however,  to  ask  you 
this  simple  question  :  —  Did  it  ever,  after  all,  occur  to  you,  what  is 
the  gi'cat  end  and  object  of  all  this  common  school  sj-stem  ? — Why 
do  we  get  all  these  children  together,  and  labor  over  them  so 
assiduously  year  after  year  ?  —  Now,  it  may  well  be  that  it  never  sug- 
gested itself  in  that  way  to  .you,  but  I  think  it  maj^  safely  be 
asserted  that  the  one  best  possible  result  of  a  common-school  edu- 
cation,—  its  great  end  and  aim,  —  should  be  to  prepare  the 
children  of  the  community  for  the  far  greater  work  of  educating 
themselves. 

Now,  in  education,  as   in   ahnost   everything  else,  there  is   a 


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strong  tendency  among  those  engaged  in  its  routine  work  to  mistake 
the  means  for  the  end.  I  am  always  struck  with  this  in  going  into 
the  average  public  school.  It  was  especially  the  case  in  the  schools 
of  this  town  fom*  3'ears  ago.  Arithmetic,  grammar,  spelling, 
geograph}^,  and  history  were  taught,  as  if  to  be  able  to  answer  the 
questions  in  the  text-books  was  the  great  end  of  all  education.  It 
was  instruction  through  a  perpetual  sj'stem  of  conundrums.  The 
child  was  made  to  learn  some  queer  definition  in  words,  or  some 
disagreeable  puzzle  in  figures,  as  if  it  was  in  itself  an  acquisition  of 
value,  —  something  to  be  kept  and  hoarded  lilve  silver  dollars,  as 
being  a  hand}'  thing  to  have  in  the  house.  The  result  was  that  the 
scholars  acquu-ed  with  immense  difficulty  something  which  they 
forgot  with  equal  ease  ;  and,  when  the^'^  left  our  grammar  schools, 
the}'  had  what  people  are  pleased  to  call  the  rudiments  of  educa- 
tion, and  3'et  not  one  in  twent}^  of  them  could  sit  down  and  write  an 
ordinary  letter,  in  a  legible  hand,  with  ideas  clearly  expressed,  and 
in  words  correctl}'  spelled ;  and  the  proportion  of  those  who  left 
school  with  either  the  ability  or  deske  to  further  educate  them- 
selves was  scarcely  greater. 

Perhaps  you  ma^'  think  this  an  exaggeration  on  m}^  part.  If  you 
do,  I  can  only  refer  j'ou  to  the  examination  papers  of  the  candi- 
dates for  admission  during  any  year  to  om*  High  School.  I  have 
had  occasion  to  go  over  many  sets  of  them,  and  I  assm'e  3'ou  they 
warrant  the  conclusion  I  have  drawn. 

Going  a  step  further  and  following  the  scholar  out  into  grown-up* 
life,  I  fancy  that  a  comparison  of  experiences  would  show  that 
scarce^  one  out  of  twenty  of  those  who  leave  our  schools  ever  fur- 
ther educate  themselves  in  an}'  gi'eat  degree,  outside,  of  coiu'se,  of 
any  special  trade  or  calling  through  which  the}'  earn  a  li%'ing.  The 
reason  of  this,  I  would  now  suggest,  is  obvious  enough  ;  and  it  is 
not  the  fault  of  the  scholar.  It  is  the  fault  of  a  system  which 
brings  a  community  up  in  the  idea  that  a  poor  knowledge  of  the 
rudiments  of  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic  constitutes  in  itself 
an  education.  Now,  on  the  contrary,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  true 
object  of  all  your  labors  as  real  teachers,  if  indeed  you  are  such,  — 
the  great  end  of  the  common-school  system,  is  something  more 
than  to  teach  children  to  read  ;  it  should,  if  it  is  to  accomplish  its 
full  mission,  also  impart  to  them  a  love  of  reading. 


A  man  or  woman  whom  a  whole  chilcUiood  spent  m  the  common 
schools  has  made  able  to  stumble  through  a  newspaper,  or  labor 
through  a  few  trashy  books,  is  scarcely  better  off  than  one  who 
cannot  read  at  all.  Indeed,  I  doubt  if  he  or  she  is  as  well  off,  for 
it  has  long  been  observed  that  a  very  small  degree  of  book  knowl- 
edge almost  universal!}'  takes  a  depraved  shape.  The  animal  will 
come  out.  The  man  who  can  barely  spell  out  his  newspaper  con- 
fines his  spelUng  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  to  those  highly  seasoned 
portions  of  it  which  relate  to  acts  of  violence,  and  especially  to 
mui'dcrs.  Among  those  who  make  a  profession  of  journaUsm  this 
is  a  perfectly  well  known  fact ;  and  any  one  who  doubts  it  may 
satisfy  himself  on  the  subject  almost  any  day  by  a  few  words  of 
inquir}^  at  a  news-stand.  Mr.  Souther,  in  this  town,  I  fanc}^,  could 
impart  to  any  of  j^ou,  who  happen  to  be  curious,  a  considerable 
amount  of  information  under  this  head.  A  little  learning  is  pro- 
verbially a  dangerous  thing ;  and  the  less  the  learning  the  greater 
the  danger. 

Let  us  recur,  then,  to  my  cardinal  proposition,  that  the  great  end 
of  all  school  education  is  to  make  people  able  to  educate  them- 
selves. You  start  them ;  that  is  all  the  best  teacher  can  do. 
Whether  he  is  called  a  professor  and  lectures  to  great  classes  of 
grown  men  at  a  university,  or  is  a  country  school-master  who  ham- 
mers rudiments  into  children,  he  can  do  no  more  than  this  ;  but  this 
ever}'  teacher,  if  he  chooses,  can  do.  How  very  few  do  it  though  ! 
Not  one  out  of  ten  ;  —  scarcely  one  out  of  twenty.  It  is  here  our 
system  fails. 

I  do  not  know  that  what  I  am  about  to  suggest  has  ever  been 
attempted  anj'where,  but  I  feel  gi-eat  confidence  that  it  would  suc- 
ceed ;  therefore,  I  would  like  to  see  it  attempted  in  Quincy. 
Having  started  the  child  by  means  of  what  we  call  a  common- 
school  course,  — -having,  as  it  were,  learned  it  to  walk,  —  the  pro- 
cess of  fm'ther  self-education  is  to  begin.  The  great  means  of  self- 
education  is  through  books  —  through  much  readmg  of  books.  But 
just  here  there  is  in  our  S3'stem  of  instruction  a  missing  link.  In 
our  schools  we  teach  children  to  read ;  —  we  do  not  teach  them  how 
to  read.  That,  the  one  all-important  thing,  —  the  great  connect- 
ing link  between  school-education  and  self-education,  —  between 
means  and  end,  —  that  one  Unk  we  make  no  effort  to  supply.     As 


8 


long  as  we  do  not  make  an  effort  to  supply  it,  our  school  system  in 
its  result  is  and  will  remain  miserably  deficient.  For  now,  be  it 
remembered,  the  child  of  the  poorest  man  in  Quinc}'  —  the  off- 
spring of  our  paupers  even  —  has  an  access  as  free  as  the  son  of  a 
miUionnaire,  or  the  student  of  Harvard  College,  to  what  is,  for  prac- 
tical general  use,  a  perfect  hbrary.  The  old  daj's  of  intellectual 
famine  for  the  masses  are  over,  and  plenty  reigns.  Yet,  though  the 
school  and  the  library  stand  on  our  main  street  side  by  side,  there 
is,  so  to  speak,  no  bridge  leading  from  the  one  to  the  other.  As 
far  as  I  can  judge  we  teach  our  children  the  mechanical  part  of 
reading,  and  then  we  turn  them  loose  to  take  their  chances.  If  the 
child  has  naturally  an  inquiring  or  imaginative  mind,  it  perchance 
may  work  its  way  unaided  through  the  traps  and  pitfalls  of 
literature  ;  but  the  chances  seem  to  me  to  be  terribly  against  it. 
It  is  so  ver}'  eas}",  and  so  very  pleasant  too,  to  read  only  books 
which  lead  to  nothing,  —  light  and  interesting  and  exciting  books, 
and  the  more  exciting  the  better,  —  that  it  is  almost  as  difficult  to 
wean  ourself  from  it  as  from  the  habit  of  chewing  tobacco  to  excess, 
or  of  smoking  the  whole  time,  or  of  depending  for  stimulus  on  tea 
or  coffee  or  spirits.  Yet  here, — on  the  threshold  of  this  vast 
field,  you  might  even  call  it  this  wilderness  of  general  literature, 
full  as  it  is  of  holes  and  bogs  and  pitfalls  all  covered  over  with 
poisonous  plants,  — here  it  is  that  our  common-school  system  brings 
our  children,  and,  having  brought  them  there,  it  leaves  them  to  go 
on  or  not,  just  as  they  please  ;  or,  if  the}^  do  go  on,  thej^  are  to  find 
their  own  way  or  to  lobse  it,  as  it  may  chance. 

I  think  this  is  all  wrong.  Our  educational  system  stops  just 
where  its  assistance  might  be  made  invaluable, — just  where  it 
passes  out  of  the  mechanical  and  touches  the  individual, — just 
where  instruction  ceases  to  be  drudgery  and  becomes  a  source  of 
pleasure.  Now,  I  do  not  propose  for  myself  any  such  task  as  an 
attempted  radical  reform  of  education.  Each  man  has  his  own 
work  to  do,  and  that  is  not  mine.  What  I  do  want  to  suggest  to 
3'ou  Grammar  School  teachers  is  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  each  one 
of  3'ou  to  introduce  a  great  spu'it  of  improvement  into  j'our  own 
schools,  and  at  the  same  time  the  greatest  pleasure  and  interest  a 
true  teacher  can  have  into  your  own  lives. 

You  know  it  is  said  that  poets  are  born,  not  made  ;  and  the  same 


9 


is  true  of  teachers.  For  myself,  I  don't  thinlc  I  could  teach  ;  —  if 
I  had  to  take  m}^  choice  I  would  rather  break  stones  in  the  high- 
wa}' ;  and  yet  other  and  better  men  than  I  would  rather  teach  than 
do  anj'thing  else.  There  is  Dr.  Dinuuock  at  the  Academy',  for 
instance.  He  found  his  place  in  life,  and  a  gi'cat  one  too,  only 
when  he  got  behind  the  master's  desk.  He  was  born  to  teach  boj's, 
and,  with  much  happiness  to  himself  and  them,  he  is  fulfilling  his 
destin}'.  But,  though  I  never  could  teach  myself,  I  can  see  clearly 
enough  that  the  one  thing  which  makes  the  true  teacher  and  which 
distinguishes  him  from  the  mechanical  pedagogue,  which  any  man 
may  become,  is  the  faculty  of  interesting  himself  in  the  single 
pupil,  —  seeing,  watching,  aiding  the  development  of  the  individual 
mind.  I  never  tried  it,  but  I  know  just  what  it  must  be  from  my 
own  experience  in  other  matters.  I  have  a  place  here  in  town,  for 
instance,  upon  wliich  I  live ;  and  there  I  not  only  grow  fields  of 
corn  and  carrots,  but  also  a  great  many  trees.  Now,  m}'  fields  of 
corn  or  carrots  are  to  me  what  a  mechanical  pedagogue's  school  is 
to  him.  I  like  to  see  them  well  ordered  and  planted  in  even  rows, 
all  growing  exactly  alike,  and  producing  for  each  crop  so  many 
bushels  of  corn  or  caiTots  to  the  acre,  one  carrot  being  pretty  nearly 
the  same  as  another  ;  —  and  then,  when  the  Autumn  comes  and  the 
farming  term  closes,  I  prepare  my  land,  as  the  pedagogue  does  his 
school-room,  for  the  next  crop;  —  and  the  last  is  over  and  gone. 
It  is  not  so,  however,  with  my  trees.  The}'  are  to  me  just  what 
his  pupOs  are  to  the  born  school-master,  —  to  Dr.  Dim  mock,  for 
instance  ;  in  each  one  I  take  an  individual  interest.  I  watch  them 
year  after  year,  and  see  them  grow  and  shoot  out  and  develop. 
Now  let  me  apply  my  simile.  You  are,  all  of  you,  I  hope,  and  if 
you  are  not  j'ou  at  least  believe  j'ourselves  to  be,  born  teachers, 
and  not  mechanical  jDcdagogues  ;  so,  of  course,  your  schools  ought 
to  be  to  you,  not  mere  fields  in  which  3-ou  turn  out  regular  crops  of 
human  cabbages  and  potatoes,  but  they  should  be  plantations  also 
in  which  yon  raise  a  few  trees,  at  least,  in  the  individual  growth  of 
which  you  take  a  master's  interest.  This  feeling  and  this  only  it 
is  which  can  make  a  teacher's  life  ennobling,  —  the  finding  out 
among  his  pupils  those  who  have  in  them  the  material  of  superior 
men  and  women,  and  then  nurturing  them  and  aiding  in  their  de- 
velopment, and  making   of  them  something  which,  but  for  their 


10 


teacher,  the}'  never  would  have  been.  These  pupils  are  to  their 
teacher  what  my  oak  trees  are  to  me  ;  —  but  for  me  those  trees 
would  have  died  in  the  acorn,  probabh',  —  at  most  the}'  would  have 
been  mere  scrub  bushes  ;  —  but  now  through  me,  —  whoU}'  owing  to 
my  intervention  and  care,  —  they  are  gi'owing  and  developing,  and 
there  are  among  them  those  which  some  day,  a  hundred  j'ears,  per- 
haps, after  my  children  are  all  dead  of  old  age,  will  be  noble 
oaks.  Then  no  one  will  know  that  I  ever  lived,  much  less  trouble 
himself  to  think  that  to  me  those  trees  owed  theu'  liA-es,  — 3'et  it  is 
so  none  the  less,  and  those  are  my  trees  no  matter  how  much  I  am 
dead  and  forgotten.  So  of  your  scholars.  If  3'ou,  during  your 
lives  as  teachers,  can,  among  all  3'our  mass  of  pupils,  find  out  and 
develop  through  j'our  own  personal  contact  onl}^  a  few,  —  saj'  half- 
a-dozen,  —  remarkable  men  and  women,  who  but  for  yoii  and  your 
observation  and  watchfulness  and  guidance  would  have  lived  and 
died  not  knowing  what  they  could  do,  then,  if  3'ou  do  nothing  more 
than  this,  3'ou  have  done  an  immense  work  in  life. 

This  dealing  with  the  individual  and  not  with  the  class,  is,  there- 
fore, the  one  gi'Ccit  pleasure  of  the  true  schoolteacher's  life.  It  can 
only  be  done  in  one  wa}',  — 3'ou  have  to  furnish  the  individual  mind 
the  nutriment  it  wants,  and,  at  the  same  time,  gently  du'ect  it  in 
the  way  it  should  go.  In  other  words,  if  the  teacher  is  going  to 
give  himself  the  intense  enjo3Tnent  and  pleasure  of  doing  this  work, 
he  cannot  stop  at  the  border  of  that  wilderness  of  literature  of 
which  I  was  just  now  speaking,  but  he  has  got  to  take  the  pupil  by 
the  hand  and  enter  into  it  with  him  ;  —  he  must  be  more  than  his 
pedagogue,  he  must  be  his  guide,  philosopher  and  friend.  And  so 
the  teacher,  with  the  scholar's  hand  in  his,  comes  at  last  to  the 
doors  of  the  Public  Library. 

AVhen  he  gets  there,  however,  he  will  probably  find  liimself 
almost  as  much  in  need  of  an  instructor  as  his  own  pupils ;  and 
here  at  last  I  come  to  the  immediate  subject  on  which  I  want  to  talk 
to  3'ou.  I  wish  to  sa3''  something  of  the  books  and  reading  of 
children,  —  of  the  general  introduction  into  hterature  which,  if  3-ou 
choose,  3'ou  are  able  to  give  3'oui'  scholars,  and  which,  if  3'ou  do 
give  it  to  them,  is  worth  more  than  all  the  knowledge  contained  in 
all  the  text-books  that  ever  were  printed.  To  3-our  whole  schools, 
if  you  onl3'   want  to,   3'ou   can  give  an  elcmcntar3'  training  as 


11 


readers,  and  if  in  this  matter  you  once  set  them  going  in  the  way 
they  should  go,  j'ou  need  not  fear  that  they  will  ever  depart 
from  it. 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  let  me  suppose  that  you  want  to  start 
your  schools  in  general  on  certain  courses  of  reading,  —  courses 
which  would  interest  and  improve  you,  probabl}',  hardlj'  less  than 
3'our  scholars,  — how  would  3'ou  go  about  it?  —  Through  individual 
scholars,  of  coiirse.  You  would  run  your  eye  down  30m'  rows  of 
desks  and  pick  out  the  occupants  of  two  or  three,  and  with  them 
3'ou  would  start  the  flock.  Human  beings  are  alwa3-s  and  every - 
where  lilce  sheep,  in  that  the3'  will  go  where  the  bell-wether 
leads.  Picking  out  the  two  or  three,  then,  you  turn  to  the  shelves 
of  the  libraiy.  And  now  3-ou  3-om-selves  are  to  be  put  to  the  test. 
You  have  dared  to  leave  the  safe,  narrow  rut  in  which  the  peda- 
gogue travels,  and  3'ou  have  ventured  into  the  fields  with  your 
pupils  behind  3-ou, — do  you  know  the  wa3^  here  ?  —  can  3'ou  dis- 
tinguish the  film  gTound  from  the  bogg3^  mu-e  ?  —  the  good  sound 
wood  from  the  worthless  parasite?  —  If  you  can,  you  are  indeecl  fit 
to  be  teachers.  I  hope  3'ou  all  can,  and  in  that  case  the  sugges- 
tions I  have  to  make  will  be  little  better  than  wasted  ;  but  if,  as  I 
suspect,  we  none  of  us  know  an3^  too  much,  what  I  am  about  to 
say  may  be  of  some  use.  In  the  first  place,  then,  in  tr3ing  to 
inoculate  children  with  a  health3'  love  of  good  reading,  —  for  this 
is  what  we  are  talking  of,  the  inoculation  of  childi'en  with  a  taste 
for  good,  miscellaneous  reading, — in  attempting  that,  the  first 
thing  to  be  borne  in  mind  is,  that  children  are  not  grown  people. 

There  are  few  things  more  melanchol3'  than  to  reflect  on  the 
"amount  of  useless  labor  which  good,  honest,  conscientious  men  and 
women  have  incm-red,  and  the  amount  of  real  suffering  they  have 
inflicted  on  poor  little  children  through  the  disregard  of  this  one 
obvious  fact.  "V\Tien  I  was  3-oung,  I  remember,  m3'  father,  from  a 
conscientious  feeling,  I  suppose,  that  he  ought  to  do  something 
positive  for  m3'  mental  and  moral  good  and  general  aesthetic  culti- 
vation, made  me  learn  Pope's  Messiah  b3'  heart,  and  a  number  of 
other  masterpieces  of  the  same  character.  He  might  just  as  well 
have  tried  to  feed  a  sucking  bab3"  on  roast  beef  and  Scotch  ale  ! 
Without  understanding  a  word  of  it,  I  learned  the  Messiah  b3'rote, 
and  I  have  hated  it,  and  its  .luthor  too,  from  that  da3'  to  this,  and 


12 


I  hate  them  now.  So,  also,  I  remember  well  when  I  was  a  boy  of 
from  ten  to  fourteen,  —  for  I  was  a  considerable  devourer  of  books, 
being  incited  to  read  Hume's  History  of  England,  and  Robertson's 
Charles  V.,  and  Gibbon's  Rome  even,  and  I  am  not  sure  I  might 
not  add  Mitford's  Greece.  I  can't  now  say  it  was  time  thrown 
away  ;  but  it  was  almost  that.  The  first  thing  in  trj-ing  to  stimu- 
late a  love  of  reading  is  to  be  careful  not  to  create  disgust  by  trj^- 
ing  to  do  too  much.  The  gi'eat  masterpieces  of  hmnan  research, 
and  eloquence,  and  fanc}"^  are  to  bo3'S  pure  nuisances.  The}'  can't 
imderstand  them  ;  they  can't  appreciate  them,  if  they  do.  "VYhen 
they  have  grown  up  to  them  and  are  ready  for  them,  thej^  will  come 
to  them  of  their  own  accord.  Meanwhile  you  can't  well  begin  too 
low  down.  The  intellectual  lilve  the  physical  food  of  children  can't 
well  be  too  sunple,  provided  only  it  is  healthy  and  nourishing. 

Not  that  I  for  a  moment  pretend  that  I  could  now  suggest  a 
successful  course  of  grammar-school  literature  myself.  The  in- 
tellectual nutriment  which  children  like  those  j'ou  have  in  charge 
are  fitted  to  digest  and  assimilate  must  be  found  out  thi'ough  a  long 
course  of  observation  and  experiment.  I  think  I  could  tell  5'ou 
what  a  boy  in  the  upper  classes  of  the  Academy  would  probably 
like  ;  but  if  I  were  to  undertake  to  lay  out  courses  of  reading  for 
the  scholars  of  our  grammar  schools,  it  would  certainly  soon  become 
very  clear  that  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  talking  about.  I  am 
very  sure  I  should  not  give  them  the  books  they  now  read  ;  but  I  am 
scarcely  less  sm"e  the}^  would  not  read  the  books  I  would  give  them. 
Nothing  but  actual  trial,  and  a  prolonged  trial  at  that,  will  bring  us 
any  results  worth  having  in  this  respect ;  and  that  trial  is  only 
possible  through  you. 

But,  in  a  very  general  way,  let  us  suppose  that  we  are  beginning 
on  the  new  sj^stem  and  that  j-our  school  is  studj'ing  history  and 
geograph}^, — we  will  take  those  two  branches  and  see  what  we 
could  do  in  connection  with  them  to  introduce  your  scholars  into 
general  literature.  History'  opens  up  the  whole  broad  field  of  his- 
torical works  and  also  of  biography, — it  is  closel}'  connected 
with  fiction  too,  and  poetry ;  geography'  at  once  suggests  the 
hbrary  of  travels.  Now,  Ave  find  that  of  all  forms  of  literature 
there  is  not  one  which  in  popularity  can  compare  with  fiction. 
From  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  men  and  women  love  story -tolling. 


13 


i^'^i- 


What  is  more,  it  is  well  they  do  ;  a  good  novel  is  a  gopd, thing, 
and  a  love  for  good  novels  is  a  health}^  taste ;  3-et  ther^i^  no 
striking  episode  in  history  which  has  not  been  made  the  basis  of 
some  good  work  of  fiction.  Onl}'  it  is  necessary-  for  you  to  find 
that  work  out,  and  to  put  it  in  the  hands  of  your  scholars  ;  they 
cannot  find  it  out  unaided. 

Next  in  popularity'  to  works  of  fiction  are  travels.  A  good, 
graphic  book  of  travel  and  adventure  captivates  almost  every  one, 
no  matter  what  the  age.  After  travels  comes  biograph}" ;  an}'  girl 
will  read  the  stor}-  of  Mar}',  Queen  of  Scots  ;  any  bo}'  the  life  of 
Paul  Jones.  Now,  here  is  our  starting-point,  and  these  fundamental 
facts  we  cannot  ignore  and  3'et  succeed  ;  human  beings  have  to  be 
interested  and  amused,  and  they  do  not  love  to  be  bored,  —  and 
children  least  of  all  are  an  exception  to  the  rule.  If,  then,  we  can 
iustnict  and  improve  them  while  we  are  interesting  and  amusing 
them,  we  are  securing  the  result  we  want  in  the  natm'al  and  easy 
way.  There  is  no  forcing.  And  this  is  exactlj^  what  any  well- 
infonned  and  older  person  can  do  for  any  child.  They  can,  in 
the  hue  of  education,  put  it  in  the  way  of  instruction  through  amuse- 
ment. 

Take  for  instance  geography,  and  suppose  your  class  is  studying 
the  map  of  Africa  ;  —  the  whole  gTeat  field  of  African  exploration 
and  adventiu'e  is  at  once  opened  up  to  j'ou  and  your  scholars. 
Turn  to  the  catalogTie  of  our  Pubhc  Library  and  see  what  a 
field  of  interesting  investigations  is  spread  out,  fii'st  for  3'ourself 
and  then  for  them.  Here  are  a  hundred  volumes,  and  you  want 
to  look  them  all  over  to  see  which  to  put  in  the  hands  of  j'our  se- 
lected pupils,  which  are  long  and  dull,  and  which  are  compact  and 
stiiTing, — which  are  adapted  to  boys  and  which  to  girls,  —  and. 
how  you  will  get  your  scholars  started  in  them.  Once  get  them 
going,  and  the  map  will  cease  to  be  a  map  and  become  a  pictm'e 
full  of  hfe  and  adventure,  not  only  to  them,  but  to  you.  You  will 
follow  with  them  Livingstone  and  Stanley  and  Baker ;  and  the 
Pyramids  will  become  reahties  to  them  as  the}'  read  of  Moses  and 
the  Pharaohs,  and  of  Cleopatra  and  Hannibal.  The  recitation  then 
becomes  a  lecture  in  which  the  pupils  tell  all  they  have  found  out 
in  the  books  they  have  read,  and  in  which  the  teacher  can  suggest 
the  reading  of  yet  other  books  ;  while  the  mass  of  the  scholars, 


14 


from  merely  listening  to  the  few,  are  stimulated  to  themselves  learn 
something  of  all  these  interesting  tilings. 

So  of  our  own  country'-  and  its  geogTaphy.  The  field  of  reading 
which  would  charm  and  interest  any  ordinary  boy  or  girl  in  tliis 
connection  is  almost  unlimited,  but  they  cannot  find  it  out.  They 
need  guidance.  What  active-minded  boy,  for  instance,  but  would 
thoroughly  enjoy  portions  at  least  of  Parkman's  Discover}^  of  the 
Great  West,  or  his  Pioneers  of  France  in  the  New  World,  or  his 
Cahfornia  Trail?  —  And  yet  how  many  of  you  have  ever  glanced 
into  one  of  those  absorbing  books  yourselves  ?  —  Nor  are  they  long 
either ;  in  each  case  one  moderate-sized  volume  tells  the  whole 
story. 

Mark  Twain,  even,  would  here  come  in  through  his  "  Roughing 
It,"  and  Ross  Browne  through  his  "Apache  Country."  Once  en- 
tered upon,  however,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  exhaust  the  list.  The 
story  of  Mexico  and  Peru,  —  Cortez  and  Pizarro,  — the  voj^ages  of 
Columbus  and  the  adventures  of  De  Soto,  — they  have  been  told  in 
fiction  and  in  history,  and  it  is  to-day  a  terrible  shame  to  us  and  to 
our  whole  school  system  that  we  teach  American  history,  and  3'et 
don't  know  how  to  make  the  study  of  American  history  as  inter- 
esting to  our  children  as  a  novel. 

But,  after  all,  as  I  have  akeady  said,  when  you  come  to  miscel- 
laneous reading  you  cannot  lay  down  general  rules  applicable  to  all 
cases ;  you  have  got  to  try  experiments  and  watch  them  as  the}' 
progress.  To  induce  some  of  you  to  try  these  experiments  has 
been  my  object  in  thus  meeting  you  to-daj'.  I  beheve  3'^ou  would 
find  that  so  doing  would  lend  a  new  life,  a  new  interest,  a  new 
significance  to  your  profession. 

When  the  catalogue  of  the  Public  Library  was  pulDlished  a  3'ear 
ago,  I  caused  one  copy  of  it  to  be  specially  bound  for  the  use  of 
each  Grammar  School.  I  was  in  hopes  that  the  teachers  would 
use  them  in  connection  with  the  studies  in  those  schools,  and 
would  induce  the  scholars  to  use  them  too.  As  I  have  visited  the 
schools  since,  I  have  usually  taken  occasion  to  ask  for  tho=;e  cata- 
logues, and  I  am  sorry  to  sa}''  I  have  generally  found  th6m  — 
there  are  two  or  three  notable  exceptions  to  this  remark  —  locked 
away  in  some  drawer  of  the  master's  desk,  and  looking  on  examina- 
tion most  suggestively  fresh  :md  clean.     My  hint   had  not  been 


15 


taken.  I  now  state  the  point  more  plainly.  I  want  very  much 
indeed  to  see  our  really  admirable  Town  Librar}'  become  a  more 
living  element  than  it  now  is  in  oiu*  school  sj'stem,  —  its  comple- 
ment, in  fact.  Neither  trustee  nor  librarian  —  no  matter  hoAv 
faithful  or  zealous  they  may  be  —  can  make  it  so ;  for  we  cannot 
know  enough  of  the  individual  scholars  to  give  them  that  which 
the}^  personall}'  need,  and  which  only  the^^  will  take  ;  — j'ou  cannot 
feed  them  until  3'ou  know  what  the}-  like  ;  and  that,  we,  in  dealing 
with  the  mass,  cannot  get  at.  You  teachers,  however,  can  get  at 
it,  if  you  choose.  To  enable  you  to  do  this,  the  trustees  of  the 
librarj'^  have  adopted  a  new  rule  under  which  each  of  3'our  schools 
may  be  made  practically  a  branch  library.  The  master  can  hun- 
self  select  and  take  from  the  Ubrar^-  a  number  of  volumes,  and 
keep  them  on  his  desk  for  circulation  among  the  scholars  under 
his  charge.  lie  can  study  their  tastes  and  ransack  the  Ubrar}' 
to  gratif}^  them.  Naj'  more,  if  you  will  but  find  out  what 
3^our  scholars  want, — what  healthy  books  are  in  demand  among 
them,  —  the  trustees  of  the  library  will  see  to  it  that  you  do  not 
want  material.  You  shall  have  all  the  books  3"ou  will  call  for. 
"Wlien,  indeed,  j'ou  begin  to  call,  we  shall  know  exactly  what  to 
buy ;  and  then,  at  last,  we  could  arrange  in  printed  bulletins  the 
courses  of  reading  which  3'our  experience  would  point  out  as  best, 
so  that  ever}^  book  would  be  accessible.  From  that  time  both 
schools  and  librar}-  would  begin  to  do  their  full  work  together,  and 
the  last  would  become  what  it  ought  to  be,  the  natural  complement 
of  the  first,  —  the  People's  CoUege. 


FICTION  IN  PUBLIC  LIBRARIES,  AND  EDUCATIONAL 
CATALOGUES. 


A  Paper  read  at  the  Third  General,  Meeting  of  the  Americak 
Library  Association,  at  Boston,  July  1,  1879. 

In  the  course  of  a  now  somewhat  prolonged  connection,  as 
trustee,  with  the  Public  Library  of  the  town  of  Quincy,  my  atten- 
tion has  more  and  more  been  called,  especially  of  late,  to  certain 
features  in  the  management  of  our  Public  Library  system,  if  such 
it  may  be  called,  which  it  seems  to  me  ought  to  be  pretty  carefully 
discussed  by  both  trustees  and  librarians,  with  a  view  to  arriving 
at  some  commonly  accepted,  as  well  as  better  considered  results. 
Before  submitting  what  I  have  to  say,  I  ought  to  premise  that  my 
experience,  somewhat  amateurish  at  best,  has  been  confined  to  a 
purely  Public  Librarj^  of  the  average  size  and  character,  supported 
on  the  educational  principle  by  the  annual  appropriation  of  a  town 
in  no  respect  different  from  the  mass  of  other  towns.  My  remarks, 
therefore,  have  no  bearing  on  the  great  endowed  libraries,  or  the 
libraries  connected  with  our  institutions  of  learning.  Speaking 
therefoi'c,  as  one  coming  dii'ectl}' from  such  a  town  library  as  I  have 
described,  it  is  mypmpose,  drawing  directly  on  mj^own  experience, 
to  call  attention  to  two  matters,  one  of  which  is  connected  with  the 
duties  of  the  trustees  of  those  institutions,  and  the  other  with  the 
needs  of  those  using  them  ;  —  the  former  being  the  present  indis- 
criminate purchase  of  works  of  fiction  for  such  libraries,  and  the 
latter  the  art  of  cataloguing  then'  contents  for  popular  educational 
purposes. 

In  the  first  place  as  respects  the  purchase  of  fiction.  Inasmuch 
as  every  one  who  has  paid  any  attention  to  the  statistics  of  libraiy 
reading  is  well  aware  of  the  fact,  it  is  unnecessary  to  saj^that  fiction 
constitutes,  on  a  rough  average,  two-thirds  of  the  whole  of  that 
reading.  That  it  does  so,  and  in  spite  of  anything  which  can  be 
done  to  alter  the  fact  will  continue  to  do  so,  I  am  not  at  all  dis- 


17 


posed  to  lament.  I  look  upon  the  appetite  as  a  healthy  and 
natiu-al  one,  and  the  average  as  no  more  than  fair.  The  lives  ol 
the  mass  of  no  community  are  over  and  above  gay ;  and  when 
those  long  hours  of  labor,  the  price  of  existence  with  the  majority, 
are  over,  the  healthy  nature  craves  amusement.  Long  before 
Homer  and  Herodotus,  the  bard  and  the  story-teller  were  the 
authors  in  most  eager  request ;  and  it  is  juvenile  fiction,  and  not 
philosophy,  which  the  children  cry  for  now-a-days.  I  do  not  know 
any  more  innocent  way  of  getting  this  amusement  which  human 
nature  has  ever  craved  than  by  losing  one's-self  in  a  novel.  I 
am  glad,  therefore,  that  other  people  do  it  as  much  as  they  do,  and 
am  Sony  that  I  do  not  myself  do  it  more. 

The  single  doubt  which  is  forcing  itself  on  mj'  mind  in  this  regard 
is,  whether  furnishing  any  sort  of  amusement  and  relaxation  of  the 
character  referred  to,  — for  education  it  is  not,  —  is  a  proper  func- 
tion of  the  government.  At  present,  so  far  as  I  am  advised,  all 
trustees  of  Public  Libraries  do  it.  The  demand  on  us  for  literature 
of  this  kind  is  very  great ;  and,  for  some  time  past,  the  current  of 
loose  public  opinion  has  set  strongly  in  favor  of  the  supposed  edu- 
cational tendency  of  undirected  and  indiscriminate  reading.  Every 
readable  book  which  comes  out,  therefore,  so  it  be  of  a  not  immoral 
character,  is  at  once  forw&rded  to  the  Public  Library  and  placed 
within  the  reach  of  every  one.  I  am,  however,  more  and  more 
inclined  to  doubt  whether  this  wholesale  purchase  by  us  of  trashy 
and  ephemeral  literature  is  jvistifiable.  We  do  not  use  the  public 
money  to  suppl}'  every  one  with  theatre,  or  concert,  or  even 
lecture  tickets. — Why  then  should  we  give  them  all  the  new 
novels  of  the  day?  —  Would  not  the  more  proper  rule  for  the 
guidance  of  us  trustees  be,  that  we  would  put  upon  the  library 
shelves,  and  bring  within  the  reach  of  all,  whether  rich  or  poor,  every 
standard  work,  fiction  or  an^-thing  else,  within  our  means  to  pur- 
chase ;  but,  so  far  as  the  passing  publications  of  the  day  are  con- 
cerned, —  the  trashj^  and  sensational  novel  in  particular,  —  while  we 
sympathize  entirel}"  in  the  desire  to  read  them,  yet  those  who  wish 
to  do  so  should  be  willing  to  pa}'  for  them,  as  thej^  do  for  their 
theatres,  their  lectures,  their  concerts.  Accordingly  thej  must  seek 
them  at  the  counters  of  the  circulating  libraries,  where,  at  a  verj' 
moderate  cost,  they  will  be  always  sure  of  finding  them.     The 


18 


Public  Library  has  a  sphere  of  its  own  within '  the  general  line  of 
education  ;  the  cu'culating  library  has  a  sphere  of  its  own  within  the 
general  line  of  amusement.  Following  after  false  theories,  per- 
haps—  possibly  led  on  by  a  not  unnatural  desire  to  increase 
the  figures  of  our  circulation,  —  to  magnify  our  business,  if  5'ou 
please, — it  seems  to  me  that  we  trustees  are  rapidly  causing  the 
Public  Library  to  invade  the  sphere  of  the  circulating  library ;  and, 
in  so  doing,  not  only  are  we  removing  a  very  desirable  as  well  as 
natiu-al  check  on  an  excessive  indulgence  in  one  form  of  amuse- 
ment, but  we  are  doing  it  through  a  misapplication  of  public 
money.  " 

My  remedy  for  this  evil  would  be  a  simple  one,  and  I  long  since 
suggested  it  in  Quincy.  The  Public  Librar}''  and  the  circulating 
library  should  come  to  an  understanding,  so  that  they  could  work 
together  and  not  in  competition.  As  trustees  we  should  agree 
with  any  person,  desiring  to  keep  a  ckculating  library,  upon  a  list  of 
books  and  of  authors  into  which  we  would  not  go  and  he  should ; 
and  whoever  wanted  those  books,  or  the  works  of  those  authors, 
should  be  referred  by  us  to  him.  These  persons  could  then  pay  for 
what  they  wanted,  or  they  could  go  without ;  but  they  could  not 
have  it  at  the  public  cost.  The  demand  for  the  sentimental  and 
more  highly  seasoned  literature  of  the  day,  —  the  Southworths,  the 
Ouidas,  the  Optics,  and  the  Kingstons, — would  then  be  measured 
and  limited,  as  it  should  be,  by  the  willingness  to  pay  something 
for  it,  and  not  stimulated  by  a  free  distribution,  on  something 
which  seems  very  like  the  panem-et-circenses  principle.  Such  a 
method  of  division  would,  I  thinli,  reduce  the  circulation  of  our 
Pubhc  Libraries  nearly  one-third  ; — but  the  two-thirds  that  were  left 
would  be  worth  more  than  the  whole  is  now,  for  it  would  all  be 
really  educational.  As  things  are  now  going,  say  what  we  will, 
this  sensational  and  sentimental  trash-gratis  business  is  at  best  a 
dangerous  experiment,  especially  for  bo^'s  and  gu-ls ;  and  I  fear 
the  I'ublic  Libraries  arc,  by  degrees,  approaching  somewhat  near 
to  what  it  is  not  using  too  strong  a  term  to  call  pandering. 


Passing  from  this  topic  to  m}""  other  one,  I  wish  to  suggest  that, 
for  the  highest  form  of  ordinary  Public  Library  use,  a  perfect  sys- 


19 


tern  of  cataloguing  it  yet  to  he  (lc\ised.  Some  years  ago  I  tried 
1113'  'prentice  hand  on  a  catalogue,  and,  though  my  work  was  most 
kindlj''  received  by  those  better  able  than  I  to  judge  of  its  relative 
merit,  I  have  since  concluded  that,  so  far  as  it  was  m}'  work  and 
not  that  of  a  peculiarlj^  competent  coadjutor,  it  was,  except  in  the 
excellence  of  its  intention,  all  wrong,  and  must  be  done  over  agaiu 
upon  a  wholly  different  plan. 

We  need,  it  would  appear,  thi-ee  distinct  kinds  of  catalogTje,  and 
the  attempt  now  is  to  combine  the  three  in  one.  Fu-st,  there  is 
the  general  reader's  catalogue  ;  second,  the  specialist's  catalogue  ; 
and,  third,  the  educational  or  Public  Library  catalogue.  As  re- 
spects the  fii'st  two,  here  at  least,  I  have  nothing  to  sa}'.  I  doubt 
if  any  improvement  can  be  made  on  the  genei'al  reader's  catalogue, 
as  exemplified  in  those  specunens  of  the  highest  recent  type  with 
which  I  am  acquainted,  —  the  catalogues  of  the  Boston  Athenoeum,  of 
the  Boston  Public  Librar}',  and  of  the  Brookl3'n  Mercantile  Library. 
These  also,  in  their  subject  catalogues,  provide  to  a  certain,  though 
sadl}'  limited  extent,  for  the  needs  of  the  specialist ;  and  the  Boston 
Public  Library  and  the  Harvard  College  Librarj^  have  recently 
shown  what  could  be  done,  if  the  work  were  not  so  well-nigh  un- 
limited, iu  a  series  of  what  may  be  called  monographic  catalogues. 
How  much  more  ma}'  have  beeu  elsewhere  done  iu  these  dkections 
I  cannot  say.  I  do  not  for  a  moment  pretend  to  have  kept  up  with 
this  new  science  in  all  its  ramifications,  and  I  am  here  only  to  speak 
of  the  single  educational  point  to  which  I  have  referred  ;  and  as 
respects  that  even,  I  fear  much  may  have  been  done  or  now  be 
doing  with  which  I  am  not  familiar. 

So  far  as  I  know,  however,  not  a  single  step  in  the  right 
du'cction  has  as  3-et  been  taken  towards  the  Pubhc  Library 
catalogue   for   educational  uses.^     A  number  of   years   ago   the 

1  At  the  time  this  paper  was  prepared  I  was  not  aware  of  the  very  valuable  work  in 
the  direction  indicated  which  Mr.  S.  S.  Gfcen,  of  the  Worcester  Public  Library,  now 
has  ill  hand.  Without  being  even  yet  fully  acquainted  with  Mr.  Green's  plan,  I  have 
no  doubt  that  it  will  prove  a  great  step  in  pdvance.  This  will  especially  be  the  case  if 
It  is  so  arranged  in  detail  as  to  permit  of  his  work  being  made  the  common  property  of 
Public  Libraries.  The  immense  cost  of  doing  the  same  copy  and  press  work  over  and 
over  again  seems  at  present  to  bo  the  chief  obstacle  in  the  way  of  all  educational  cata- 
logues. It  is  an  obstacle  which  would  seem,  also,  to  require  very  little  ingenuity  to 
overcome;  there  is,  laoreover,  money  to  bo  made  by  some  one  in  overcoming  it. 


20 


Boston  Public  Library  incorporated  into  its  catalogue  a  number 
of  elaborate  notes,  historical  and  otherwise,  for  popular  use.  It  was 
a  fli'st  step  towards  realizing  a  great  conception  ;  and,  as  such  first 
steps  always  are,  it  was  necessarilj- tentative.  More  recently,  when 
preparing  the  Quincy  catalogue,  I  freely  imitated  those  notes,  and 
in  some  respects  elaborated  the  S3'stem.  I  have  since,  as  I  have 
already  intimated,  come  to  the  conclusion  that,  for  the  purposes  at 
least  for  which  I  designed  them,  the  notes  of  the  Quinc}'  catalogue 
were  almost  wholly  useless.  I  came  to  tliis  conclusion  ver}'  reluct- 
antly', and  I  now  have  no  time  in  which  to  carry  out  m}-  more  recent 
ideas.  I  therefore  submit  them  here  for  what  they  are  worth,  in 
the  hope  that  others  ma}'  see  something  in  them,  and  do  w^hat  I 
cannot  do. 

The  difficulty  with  the  notes  of  the  Quincy  catalogue,  and,  as  I 
should  suppose,  with  those  of  the  Boston  Pubhc  Library  catalogue, 
was  that,  as  educational  notes  they  were  prepared  on  a  preconceived 
theory  as  to  the  capacit}-  and  acquu-ements  of  those  for  whose  use 
they  were  intended,  —  a  theory  that  street  children  are  the 
same  as  professors'  children, — that  they  can  understand  the 
same  instructions,  and  assimilate  the  same  mental  nuti-iment. 
But  they  are  not.  The}'  are,  on  the  contrary',  as  distinct  from 
them  as  two  things  which  natm-e  made  alike  can  become  when 
exjDosed  all  their  lives  to  dilferent  influences  and  conditions.  The 
difference  will  average  the  same  as  that  between  plants  grown  in 
sheltered  places  and  cared  for,  and  those  left  to  struggle  up  from 
crevices  in  the  north  face  of  rocky  exposures.  Not  to  recognize  it 
is  to  ignore  or  denj-  the  efficacy  of  home  education,  and  to  insist 
that  the  few  hours  passed  in  the  school-room  contribute  alone  to 
the  child's  moral  and  mental  make-up  ;  — but,  if  this  is  indeed  so, 
then  the  whole  talk  of  the  responsibility  incurred  b}'  superior  ad- 
vantages becomes  senseless  cackle.  In  point  of  fact,  however, 
and  theory-  apart,  the  intellectual  atmospheres  which  the  laborer's 
sou  and  the  professors  son  breathe  from  the  cradle  up,  have  almost 
nothing  in  common  ;  and  this  fact  the  Public  Library,  officered  as 
it  necessaril}'  is  by  professors,  must  recognize,  if  it  is  ever  to  begin 
even  to  fuliil  its  educational  functions.  But  in  preparing  the 
notes  in  the  catalogues  I  have  referred  to,  the  professors  had  only 
their  own   children,  and   highl}'  precocious   children   at  that,   in 


21 


tlieir  minds.  Those  note?  were,  accordingl}^  "caviare  to  the 
general."  Now,  if  there  is  one  thing  about  a  Public  Library- 
more  instructive  than  another  it  is  the  realizing  sense  it  gives 
an^^  educated  and  observi  ng  man  connected  with  it  of  the  size 
of  that  intellectual  world  in  which  we  live.  This,  too,  is  in 
Tenn3-son's  language,  "  a  loiindless  universe,"  and  within  it  there 
"  is  boundless  better,  boundless  worse."  Take,  for  instance,  the 
(xlucational,  intellectual,  and  litcrar}^  strata ;  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  we  of  the  so-called  educated  classes  know  absolutel}' 
nothing  about  them  ;  we  live  in  an  acquu'ed  atmosphere  of  our  own, 
and  we  cannot  go  out  of  it,  except  on  excursions  of  discover^-, — 
from  which,  like  our  friend  Pi'ofessor  Sumner  the  other  day,  we  are 
apt  to  return  in  a  ver}'  dishevelled  and  panicky  condition.  I  have 
consequently  found  that,  taking  the  mass  of  those  who  use  the  Pub- 
lic Library,  and  especially  the  children  in  our  pubUc  schools  who 
are  born  and  bred  in  the  habitations  of  labor,  —  those  offspring  of 
the  dollar  and  the  dollar  and  a  half  a  day  people  whom  we  especially 
wish  to  reach,  —  these  cannot  and  will  not  read  what,  as  a  rule,  I  am 
willing  to  recommend.  "What  I  like  is  to  them  incomprehensible  ; 
and  what  the}'  lilce  is  to  me  simply  unendm-able.  They  are  in  the 
Sunday  police-paper  and  dime- novel  stage.  It  is  only  when  you 
become  thoroughly  conscious  of  the  existence  and  extent  of  this 
class  that  you  understand  the  why  and  the  wherefore  of  the  make-up 
of  the  daily  journals  of  our  Western  cities,  with  then*  long  sensa- 
tional headings  of  murders,  robberies,  and  deeds  of  violence.  But 
when,  from  actual  observation,  I  did  get  a  realizing  sense  both  of  the 
magnitude  and  the  torpid,  uninformed  condition  of  this  stratum,  I 
am  free  to  say  that  a  strong  sense  of  the  humor  of  the  thing  over- 
came me  when  I  thought  of  mj  somewhat  elaborate  notes  in  the 
Quincy  catalogue,  intended  for  popular  use,  on  the  books  relating 
to  French  and  English  histor}-.  So  far  as  accomplishing  the  pur- 
pose I  had  in  view  was  concerned,  I  might  as  well  have  directed  the 
librarian  to  hand  to  each  apphcant  a  copy  of  Kant's  Critique  of 
Pure  Reason  in  the  original.  The  difficult}'  was  simply  here  :  those 
competent  by  education  to  use  and  profit  by  ni}'  notes,  could,  as  a 
rule,  be  safel}'  left  to  do  without  them  ;  while  for  those —  and  thej' 
constitute  the  majorit}'  —  who  reall}-  need  assistance,  a  whollj'  dif- 
ferent assistance  was  necessarj'.     I  did  the  work  subjectively,  —  it 


22 


should  have  been  done  objectively.  In  other  words  the  professor, 
out  of  his  inner  self-consciousness,  knows  nothing  whatever  about 
the  street  child,  and  if  he  means  to  get  hold  of  him  he  has  first  got 
to  study  him. 

Neither  is  the  stud}"  a  difficult  one.  On  the  contrary-  it  is  very 
simple,  if  it  is  only  begun  in  the  true  missionary  spirit  and  with 
an  entire  absence  of  any  fixed  notions  of  how  things  ought  to  be, 
instead  of  how  they  really  are.  The  first  thing  to  be  gotten  rid  of, 
however,  is  that  idea  which  is  the  bane  of  our  present  common- 
school  system,  —  the  idea  that  information,  knowledge,  if  you 
please,  is  in  itself  a  good  thing,  and  that  people  in  general,  and 
especially  chikken,  are  a  species  of  automatons  or  india-rubber 
bags,  into  which  we  must  stuff  as  much  as  we  can  of  that  good 
thing  in  as  many  of  its  diflerent  forms  as  possible.  But  we  may 
stuff  and  stuff,  and  in  om'  Public  Libraries  it  will  be  just  as  it  has 
been  and  now  is  in  our  common  schools,  even  those  who  are  forced 
or  coaxed  into  receiving  it,  will  be  unable  to  assimilate  it.  Intel- 
lectually, as  physically,  if  you  mean  to  impart  nom-ishment  you 
must  adapt  the  food  to  the  digestive  powers.  In  the  matter  of 
reading,  where  those  powers  are  natm-ally  considerable,  or  have 
been  properly  developed,  the  ordinary  catalogue  vdU  supply  all  the 
needful  aid  in  the  search  for  new  food  ;  but  with  only  a  small  por- 
tion of  those  who  come  to  our  PubUc  Libraries  is  this  the  case. 
The  difficulty,  moreover,  is  vastty  increased  by  the  fact  that  the 
great  field  of  work  at  the  Public  Library  is  among  the  chilcken. 
As  respects  reading,  and  self-education  thi'ough  reading,  it  is  to  be 
remembered  that  the  habits  of  life  are  acquired  at  a  very  early 
age,  and  once  fixed  cannot  l3e  changed.  In  this  matter  adults  may 
be  dropped  out  of  consideration  ;  for  bettor  or  for  worse  they  are  — 
what  they  are.  There  is,  indeed,  probably  no  human  faculty  which 
depends  so  much  for  its  development  on  early  habit  and  training 
as  the  facult}'  of  acquiring  information  out  of  books.  As  the 
phrase  goes,  you  have  got  to  catch  them  young  ;  and  if  you  do  not 
catch  them  young,  certainl}-  in  then*  "  teens,"  you  will  never  catch 
them  at  all. 

The  question  simply'  is,  then,  how  J'ar  Uie  Public  J^ibrary  can 
be  so  organized  and  equii)[)ed  with  appliances  as  to  enable  it  to 
leaven  with  its  contents  this  inchoate  mass  while  it  is  3'et  in  the 


23 


formative  condition.  Thus  far  we  have  only  got  to  the  JDoint  of 
thi'ustiug  a  complicated  list  of  great  collections  of  books  into  peo- 
ple's hands,  and  telUng  them  to  find  out  what  they  want,  and 
take  as  much  of  it  as  thej'  please.  The}'  natm-ally  took  fiction, 
and  the  weakest  forms  of  fiction ;  and  then  in  due  time  followed 
the  comically  absurd  theory  of  mental  evolution  through  indis- 
criminate stor^'-books  gi'atis.  Now,  that  insipid  or  sensational  fic- 
tion amuses  I  fi-eelj'  admit,  but  that  it  educates  or  leads  to  an^-- 
thing  bej-ond  itself,  either  in  this  world  or  the  next,  I  utterl}'  deny. 
On  the  contrary,  it  simply  and  certainly  emasculates  and  destroj's 
the  intelligent  reading  power.  It  is  to  that  what  an  excessive  use 
of  tobacco,  tea,  coffee,  or  any  other  stimulant  is  to  the  nervous 
sj'stem. 

In  this  vast  field  of  public  instruction,  then,  in  which,  more  than 
anj-where  else,  direction  is  all  important,  no  direction  at  all  is 
given.  But  the  mass  cannot  do  without  it.  Consequentl}'  nothing 
in  m}'  observation  of  owe  library  at  Quincy  has  astonished  me  more 
than  the  utter  aimlessness  of  the  reading  done  from  it,  —  that,  and 
the  lack  of  capacitj'  for  any  sustained  effort  in  reading.  Few, 
indeed,  of  those  who  come  there  have  the  com-age  to  begin  any 
work  in  several  volmnes  ;  and  of  those  few  hardly  anj^  get  beyond 
the  fii'st.  This  is  ti'ue  of  all  authors  except  a  few  wiiters  of  nov- . 
els.  The  number  of  those  who  have  not  the  strength  of  literary 
appetite  to  take  up  any  volume,  but  want  an  illusti-ated  magazine 
or  some  book  of  short  stories  or  papers,  to  turn  over  of  a  Sunday'' 
or  in  the  evening  before  going  to  bed,  is  enoiTuously  large.  So 
much  have  I  been  impressed  bj'  this,  that,  studj-ing  the  subject 
objectivel}'  and  from  the  educational  point  of  "view,  —  seeking  to 
piovide  that  which,  taken  altogether,  will  be  of  the  most  service  to 
the  largest  number,  —  I  long  ago  concluded  that,  if  I  could  have 
but  one  work  for  a  PubUc  Library,  I  would  select  a  complete  set  of 
Harper's  Monthly. 


Having  said  this  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  making  a  little 
historical  digression.  If  the  world  is  not  yet  perfect,  it  certainly- 
does  move,  as  I  now  propose  to  show.  To  plant  one's  standard  on 
Harper's  Monthly  as  the  most  valuable  work  for  public  librar}'  uses 


24 


in  existence,  is  taking,  as  many  of  you  may  think,  a  tolerably  ad 
vanced  stand  in  the  long  struggle  betwe  ^n  liberaUsm  and  eonsers'a- 
tism  in  library'  management.  "When  we  go  back  and  see  where  our 
fathers  stood,  this  certainly  seems  to  be  the  case.  Could  they  exam- 
ine oar  modern  shelves  of  books  they  would  indeed  rub  their  eyes 
and  gasp  !  —  In  illustration  of  all  this  I  propose  at  this  point  to  con- 
ti'ibute  a  rather  amusing  page  to  the  historj^  of  American  Public 
Libraries,  — a  page,  too,  which,  unless  I  contribute  it  here  and  now, 
will  probably  be  overlooked  and  forever  lost. 

I  doubt  if  the  best  informed  of  those  who  have  devoted  their 
lives  to  Public  Libraries  have  ever  heard  of  Stephen  Burroughs  as 
being  one  of  theh  founders  ; — he,  once  known  as  "  the  notorious 
Stephen  Burroughs,"  —  a  gentleman  who  in  the  course  of  his  life 
was  fated  to  repeatedly  come  in  somewhat  violent  contact  with  the 
laws  of  his  country',  and  who  has  left  behind  him  an  autobiography 
which  is  almost  as  amusing  a  specimen  of  impudent  mendacity  as  that 
of  Benvenuto  Cellini.  It  is  full  of  que&r  glimpses  of  New  England 
life  just  subsequent  to  the  War  of  Independence.  The  Quincy 
library  boasts  a  copy  of  the  book  —  a  waif  from  some  house-clearing 
dispensation  —  and  there,  while  cataloguing,  I  stmnbled  over  it,  and 
read  it  with  great  delight.  Burroughs  was  the  son  of  a  New 
Hampshu'e  Presbyterian  clergyman,  who  sent  hun  to  Dartmouth 
College,  from  which  institution  he  suffered  an  earl}'  and  deserved 
expulsion.  Subsequently  he  became  a  preacher,  a  counterfeiter,  a 
jail-breaker,  a  schoolmaster,  and,  in  consequence  of  his  misdeeds 
in  this  last  capacity,  he  did  not  escape  the  whipping-post  at 
Worcester  in  the  3'ear  1790.  Always  a  rogue,  he  was  also  a 
philosopher,  and  two  of  his  aphorisms  have  lived,  at  least  until 
receutl}',  in  the  memor}'  of  the  New  England  pedagogue  ;  for  I  m^'self 
have  often  heard  the  late  Dr.  Gardner,  of  the  Latin  School,  luul 
them,  always  with  their  author's  name  attached,  at  the  head  of  his 
bo3's  Avhen  caught  in  the  act.  Those  aphorisms,  more  worldly  wise 
than  good,  were  thus  expressed:  the  first,  "  Never  tell  a  lie  when 
you  know  the  truth  will  be  found  out ;  "  and  the  second,  "■  Never 
tell  a  lie  when  the  truth  will  serve  your  purpose  equallv  well." 
But  here  let  me  add  that  tlie  man  who  has  not  read  Stephen  Bur- 
roughs' extemporaneous  sermon  on  the  text  • '  Old  shoes  and  clouted 


25 


on  their  feet"  (Joshua  ix.,  5),  has  yet  to  complete  his  acquaint- 
ance with  pulpit  eloquence. 

In  addition,  however,  to  being  a  rogue,  philosopher,  and 
preacher,  St(>phen  Burroughs  was  also  the  founder  of  a  Public 
Library ;  and  it  is  in  that  capacity,  and  as  throwing  a  queer  glance 
of  light  on  what  was  looked  upon  as  popular  reading  about  the 
year  1791,  that  I  take  the  Uberty  of  introducing  him  here.  Having 
fled  from  the  Worcester  whipping-post  in  1790,  Burroughs,  in  1791, 
set  up  as  a  school-master  in  a  town  on  Long  Island ;  and  presently 
he  goes  on  to  say :  — 

The  people  on  this  island  were  very  illiterate,  making  but  a  small  calcula- 
tion for  information,  further  than  the  narrow  circle  of  their  own  business 
extended.  They  were  .almost  entirely  destitute  of  books  of  any  kind  except 
school-books  and  bibles ;  hence,  those  who  had  a  taste  for  reading,  had  not  the 
opportunity.  I  found  a  number  of  those  young  people  who  had  attended  my 
evening  school,  possessing  bright  abilities,  and  a  strong  thirst  for  information, 
which  would  lead  to  rapid  improvement  had  they  the  opportunity.  Therefore, 
under  circumstances  like  these,  I  felt  very  desirous  to  devise  some  method  to 
remove  the  evil.  ...  I  finally  thought  of  using  my  endeavors  to  persuade 
the  people  into  the  expediency  of  raising  money  for  the  purpose  of  collecting 
a  number  of  books  for  the  use  of  the  young  people  of  the  district. 

He  then  communicated  his  plau  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  AVoolworth,  the 
clergj'man  of  the  village,  of  whom  he  tells  us  "his  genius  was 
brilliant ;  his  mind  was  active  and  full  of  enterprise.  As  a  reasoner, 
he  was  close  and  metaphj'sical,  but  as  a  declaimer,  he  was  bungling 
and  weak."  Mr.  Woolworth,  however,  gave  BuiToughs  no  en- 
couragement, remarking  that  he  had  himself  attempted  something 
of  the  sort  but  had  failed,  and  the  people  "had  no  idea  of  the 
benefit  of  books,  or  of  a  good  education."  A  Mr.  Ilalsey,  to  whom 
he  next  stibmitted  his  plan,  and  who,  he  tells  us,  "  was  a  man  of 
shrewd  discernment  and  excellent  judgment,"  took  a  different  view 
of  the  subject  and  intunated  that  the  cause  of  Mr.  Woolwoith's 
failure  was  to  be  found  in  the  fact  ' '  that  people  are  afraid  thej^ 
shall  not  be  gTatified  in  such  books  as  they  want,  so  long  as  he  has 
the  lead  of  the  business.  The}'  generall}-  expect  the  librarj-  will 
consist  of  books  in  divinity,  and  dry  metaphj-sical  writings ; 
whereas,  should  they  be  assm-ed  that  histories  and  books  of  iufor- 
4 


26 


mation  would  be  procured,  I  Lave  no  doubt  they  might  be  prevailed 
upon  to  raise  money  sufficient  for  such  a  purpose." 

On  this  hint  Burroughs  went  to  work,  and  soon  raised  the  neces- 
sary' funds.  What  followed  can  only  be  described  in  his  own 
language :  — 

I  immediately  advertised  the  proprietors  of  the  library  to  hold  a  meeting  for 
the  purpose  of  selecting  a  catalogue  of  books,  and  to  make  rules  for  the 
government  of  a  library,  etc.  At  the  day  appointed  we  all  met.  After  we 
had  entered  into  some  desultory  conversation  upon  the  business,  it  was  pro- 
posed and  agreed  to  choose  a  committee  of  five,  to  make  choice  of  books. 
Mr.  Woolworth,  myself.  Deacon  Cook,  Doctor  Rose,  and  one  Mathews,  were 
chosen  a  committee  for  this  purpose.  Immediately  after  we  had  entered  upon 
business,  Mr.  Woolworth  produced  a  catalogue  of  his  own  selection,  and  told 
the  meeting  that  he  had  consulted  all  the  catalogues  of  the  bookstores  in  New 
York,  and  had  chosen  the  best  out  of  them  all  for  this  library ;  and  called  for 
a  vote  upon  his  motion.  ...  I  requested  the  favor  of  Mr.  Woolworth  to 
see  the  catalogue  he  had  selected.  After  running  it  through,  I  perceived  that 
the  conjectures  of  the  people  had  not  been  ill-founded  resiiccting  the  choice 
he  would  make  for  them.  His  catalogue  consisted  wholly  of  books  upon  the 
subject  of  ethics ;  and  did  not  contain  a  single  history,  or  anything  of  the 
kind. 


Then- 


I  made  a  selection  from  a  number  of  catalogues  of  such  books  as  ap- 
peared to  me  suitable  to  the  first  design  of  this  institution. 

No  conclusion  was  reached  at  this  meeting,  but  the  number  of 
the  committee  was  increased,  and  an  adjournment  had  for  a 
week. 

During  the  time  of  adjournment  the  clamor  still  increased  against  the  books 
which  1  had  offered  for  the  library.  Mr.  Woolworth  and  Judge  Ilurlbut 
were  in  a  state  of  great  activity  on  this  subject,  and  their  perpetual  cry  was, 
"  that  I  was  endeavoring  to  overthrow  all  religion,  morality  and  order  in  the 
place ;  was  introducing  corrupt  books  into  the  lihrar}-,  and  adopting  the  most 
fatal  measures  to  ovcrtlirow  all  tbe  good  old  establishments." 

At  the  next  meeting,  the  different  members  of  the  committee  had  selected  a 
catalogue  of  books,  peculiar  to  their  own  taste.  Deacon  Hedges  brought 
forward  "Essays  on  the  Divine  authority  for  Infant  Baptism,"  Terras  of 
CImrch  Communion,"  "The  Careful  Watchman,"  "  Age  of  Grace,"  etc.,  all 


27 


pamphlets. — Deacon  Cook's  collection  was,  "  History  of  Martyrs,"  "Riglits 
of  Conscience,"  "Modern  Piiarisces,"  Defence  of  Separates,"  etc. — Mr. 
Woolworth  exhibited  "Edwards  against  Chauncey,"  "History  of  Eedcnip- 
tion,"  "  Jenning's  View,"  etc.  Judge  Ilurlbut  concurred  in  the  same.  Doctor 
Hose  exhibited  "Gay's  Fables,"  "  Pleasing  Companion,"  "Turkish  Spy;" 
while  I,  for  the  tliird  time,  recommended  "Hume's  History,"  "Voltaire's 
Histories,"  "  Rollins'  Ancient  History,"  "  Plutarch's  Lives,"  etc. 

Then  followed  a  tumult  of  objections,  but  finall}^,  after  much 
bickering  and  hard  feeling,  a  compromise  list  was  agreed  upon,  the 
books  were  purchased,  and,  as  Burroughs  expresses  it,  "matters 
seemed  to  subside  into  a  sullen  calm."  The  calm,  however,  did 
not  last  long.  One  day  the  "  History  of  Charles  Wenthworth  "  was 
purchased  b}"  the  committee  from  the  collection  of  Judge  Hurlbut, 
and  speedil}'  Burroughs  got  hold  of  a  " deistical  treatise"  in  those 
volumes,  and  thereupon  he,  so  to  speak,  proceeded  to  make  it 
uncommonly  warm  for  the  judge  and  his  friend  the  Eev.  Mr. 
"Woolworth.  A  battle  ro^^al  ensued  over  this  "  so  monstrous  a  pro- 
duction," in  which  "the  holy  religion  of  their  ancestors  [was] 
vilified  thus  by  a  xHe  caitiff,"  and  not  only  the  committee  but  the 
whole  parish  was  convulsed.  At  last,  after  a  fierce  debate  in  a 
sort  of  general  convocation.  Burroughs  concludes  with  this  deli- 
ciously  instructive  paragraph  :  — 

It  was  then  motioned  to  have  some  of  the  obnoxious  passages  read  before 
the  meeting,  but  this  was  overruled  by  Mr.  Woolworth,  Judge  Hurlbut, 
Capt.  Post,  and  Dr.  Hose.  It  was  then  put  to  vote,  whether  the  book  in 
dispute  should  be  excluded  from  tlie  library,  and  the  negative  was  obtained 
by  a  large  majority.  The  truth  was  this :  there  had  been  so  much  said 
respecting  the  book,  that  each  individual  was  anxious  to  gratify  his  curiosity 
by  seeing  this  phenomenon ;  and  each  one  who  had  read  it,  was  more  afraid 
for  others  than  for  himself,  therefore  it  was  determined  that  the  book 
should  remain  a  member  of  the  library,  in  order  for  each  one  to  be  gratified 
by  the  i)erusal 

Could  an3-thing  better  mark  the  advance  which  has  of  late  years 
been  made  in  a  correct  understanding  of  that  intellectual  food  which 
the  popular  taste  demands.  From  "Edwards  against  Chaunce}^," 
and  "  Rollin's  Ancient  History"  to  Hax-per's  Monthly!  What 
giants  they  must  have  been,  or  else  what  husks  they  subsisted  on 


28 


in  those  days  !  I  fanc}',  however,  that  the  children  cried  for  bread 
and  they  gave  them  stones  then,  and  very  few  of  them ;  now, 
without  waiting  for  them  to  cry  for  it,  we  are  giving  them  any 
quantity  of  mild  poison.  Meanwhile  the  publisher  of  to-da}-,  I 
think,  understands  the  popular  appetite  almost  perfectly  well. 
With  him  it  is  a  purel}^  business  operation.  He  studies  the  market, 
and  not  his  own  inner  consciousness  ;  the  result  is  that  he  publishes 
what  the  market  will  talie,  and  not  what  he  himself  may  fauc}^,  or 
think  it  ought  to  take.  He  does  this  at  his  peril,  too,  for  mistakes 
in  judgment  mean  bankruptcy.  The  result  with  us  is  Harper's 
Monthl}' ;  not  great,  not  original,  not  intended  for  the  highl}'  educated 
few  ;  but  always  varied,  always  good,  alwaj'S  improving,  and  always 
reflecting  with  the  utmost  sliill  the  better  average  popular 
demand. 

Meanwhile,  the  position  of  the  librarian  and  cataloguer  has  been 
wholly  diiferent  from  that  of  the  publislier.  He  has  not  worked  for 
a  constituency  whose  tastes  and  desires  he  has  been  compelled  to 
study  as  the  price  of  success.  Consequently  he  has  built  upon  a 
plan  of  his  own,  and  has  catalogued  for  himself  and  a  few  others 
who  know  all  about  books  and  authors  ;  and  it  is  only  recentl}^  that 
an  idea  of  the  educational  catalogue  has  suggested  itself  to  him. 
But  what  we  need  is  a  catalogue  which  in  its  conception  and  execu- 
tion shall  be  as  different  from  the  standard  catalogue  as  Harper's 
Monthl}^  is  different  from  Rollin's  Ancient  History  or  Plutarch's 
Lives.  To  produce  this  the  librarian  has  got  to  cut  loose  from 
models  and  theories,  and  begin  by  patiently  observing  those  who 
come  to  his  desk  calling  for  books.  In  other  words,  he  has  got  to 
begin  at  the  beginning  ;  —  but  has  not  Pope  told  us  that  ' '  the  proper 
study  of  mankind  is  man?  "  —  The  first  duty  of  the  Public  Library- 
cataloguer  just  at  i^resent  is,  therefore,  to  make  himself  human. 
As  compared  with  the  publisher,  he  is  in  his  study  of  mankind 
still  back  in  that  earlier  stage  which  Burroughs  happened  upon. 

When  the  librarian  does  thus  go  back  and  begin  his  new  work 
from  the  beginning  and  objectively,  he  will,  unless  I  am  quite  mis- 
taken, find  and  by  degrees  map  out  certain  wide,  deep  currents  of 
popular  taste,  —  and  only  when  he  fixes  clearl}'  the  limits  of  these 
currents,  as  affected  by  sex,  b}-  temperament,  b}"  age,  b}'  nationalitj', 
and  b}'  education,  —  onl}'  then  will  he  be  able  to  fm'nish  each  with 


29 


that  nutriment  it  needs,  and  wliicli  only  it  can  properl}'  assimilate. 
The  world  is  not  a Do-the-boy's  Ilall,  and  it  is  no  use  tr3ing  to  serve 
out  brimstone  and  treacle  to  all  liomthe  same  wooden  spoon.  That 
one  man's  food  is  another  man's  poison  is  true  in  the  matter  of 
books,  perhaps,  more  than  in  anything  else  ;  but  is  it  not  strange 
that  while  the  field  of  search  is  so  large  and  the  searchers  so 
ignorant,  more  pains  have  not  yet  been  taken  in  the  erection  of 
finger-boards?  The  fact  would  seem  to  be  that,  since  the  da3-s  of 
long-continued  famine  suddenly  came  to  a  close,  some  fifteen  j'ears 
ago,  we  have  been  passing  through  a  period  of  indiscriminate 
indulgence.  We  have  been  abusing  our  plenty.  We  are  now  just 
beginning  to  doubt  whether  this  excess  of  liberty  does  not  verge  on 
hcense.  Presently  we  will  conclude  that  it  does,  and  then  a  reac- 
tion will  set  in.  The  world  always  moves  in  this  way.  To  reduce 
the  reading  of  fiction  among  children, — for  I  care  nothing  about 
the  adults,  — you  have  got  to  guide  them  to  a  substitute  for  fiction 
which  they  will  accept.  The  finding  this  substitute  and  the  best 
means  of  guidance  to  it  I  take  to  be  the  Pubhc  Library  problems 
of  this  reactionar}'  period.  The  comparison  of  notes  here  about 
fiction,  its  use  and  abuse  b}'  the  young,  is  of  no  worldly-  use  that  I 
can  see,  except  as  it  leads  to  this  practical  result. 

To  come,  however,  immediately  to  the  point,  what  is  wanted  at 
Quincy  I  know  ;  and,  if  it  is  wanted  there,  I  presume  it  is  wanted 
elsewhere.  With  the  means  and  time  at  my  dispostd  it  is  evident 
that  I  cannot  pro^^de  it  for  Quincy ;  but,  if  the  same  need  does 
Indeed  exist  elsewhere,  there  is  no  better  wa}'  for  me  to  get  it  pro- 
vided for  than  b}*-  stating  it  as  clearl}'  as  I  can  here.  What  we 
need  at  Quincy  to  fully  develop  our  Public  Library  as  an  active 
influence  in  our  educational  system,  is  a  regular,  scientifically  pre- 
pared series  of  annotated  horn-book  catalogues  of  popular  read- 
ing. They  should  be  prepared  for  both  sexes,  or  for  either  sex, 
as  the  case  might  be  ;  the}'  should  be  graded  according  to  the  ages 
of  readers,  and  should  cover  fiction,  biography,  historj^,  travels, 
and  science,  each  by  itself;  the}'  should  be  annotated  in  short, 
simple,  attractive  language  ;  thej'  should  be  unpretentious  and  com- 
pact, and,  above  all  else,  they  should  be  human.  Four  pages 
should  be  the  limit  of  size,  for  four  pages  cover  a  library  of  250 
volumes.     A  single  page,  if  well  selected,  would  do  better  work 


30 


among  cMldren  than  four  pages.  These  catalogues  should  be  sold 
at  a  nominal  price,  or,  if  possible,  distributed  by  the  teachers  in 
om-  public  schools.  Were  they  once  prepared  they  could  be  used 
indiscriminately  by  libraries,  for  no  works  but  standard  works 
would  be  thus  catalogued,  and,  the  titles  being  kept  permanently- 
set  up,  it  would  merely  be  necessary  to  reset  the  shelf- numbers  to 
adapt  the  pages  to  any  library.  A  combined  action  in  the  matter 
is  especially  desirable,  for  through  it  a  gi-eat  sa\'ing,  both  of  labor 
and  monc}',  could  be  effected.  If,  through  such  a  combined  action, 
the  result  I  have  endeavored  to  outhne  could  be  brought  about,  I 
feel  so  strong  an  assiu'aucc  of  the  fact,  iu  the  light  of  m}-  own 
practical  experience  both  in  connection  with  schools  and  Hbraries, 
that  I  do  not  hesitate  to  exjDress  the  confident  beUef  that  the  Pub- 
lic Library-  would  very  speedily  become  a  far  more  important  and 
valuable  factor  iu  popular  education  than  that  whole  high-school 
system,  which  now  costs  us  so  much,  and,  in  m}-  opinion,  accom- 
pHshes  so  little. 


THE  NEW  DEPAKTURE   IN   THE   COMMON   SCHOOLS 
OF  QUINCY. 


A    PAPER   PliEPARED   FOR  THE   ASSOCIATION    OF    SCHOOL    COMMITTEES 

AND  Superintendents  of  Norfolk  County  at  its  Spring 
Meeting  of  1879. 

The  more  than  local  interest  which  has  of  late  been  evinced  in 
certain  changes  and,  so  to  speak,  experiments,  ■which  during  the 
last  four  years  have  been  made  in  the  common-school  course  in  the 
town  of  Quincy,  would  seem  at  this  time  to  justify  a  more  particu- 
lar statement  in  regard  to  them.  They  are  not  without  a  general 
value,  as  the  condition  of  affau's  which  preceded  and  led  to  them 
was  by  no  means  peculiar  to  Quincy,  and  the  results  reached  there, 
if  of  value,  are  easily  attainable  anywhere.  It  may  perhaps  be 
best  to  concisely  state  the  object  of  these  changes  and  experiments 
in  the  first  place  :  — it  was  to  secure,  if  possible,  a  thoroughly  good 
common-school  education  at  a  not  unreasonable  cost.  The  two 
points  of  excellence  and  economy  were  to  be  kept  clearly  in  view, 
and  neither  was  to  be  subordinated  to  the  other. 

In  presenting  to  the  town  theu'  annual  report  on  the  condition  of 
its  schools  in  1873,  the  Quincy  committee  took  occasion  to  refer  to 
the  state  of  what  they  termed  ' '  immobiUty  "  at  which  those  schools 
had  then  arrived.     They  used  the  following  language  :  — 

A  retrospect  of  ten  years  will  discover  no  very  remarkable  results.  Ten 
.years  ago,  so  far  as  we  remember,  tlic  cliildren  read  and  wrote  and  spelled 
about  as  well  as  they  do  to-day ;  and  the  fundamental  rules  of  arithmetic 
were  as  thoroughly  taught  then  as  now.  And  at  present,  as  in  the  past,  most 
of  the  pupils  who  have  finished  the  grammar  course  neither  speak  nor  spell 
their  own  language  very  perfectly,  nor  read  and  write  it  with  that  elegance 
which  is  desirable.  This  immobility  seems  to  show  that  a  point  has  been 
reached  which  is  near  the  natural  term  of  such  force  as  our  present  system 
of  schooling  is  calculated  to  exert. 


32 


In  stating  their  conclusions  in  this  way  the  committee  certainly 
used  the  mildest  possible  language  which  the  circumstances  per- 
mitted. The  Quincy  schools  at  that  time  were  neither  better  nor- 
worse  than  those  of  the  surrounding  towns  ;  thej^  were,  indeed, 
fairly  to  be  classed  among  those  of  the  higher  order,  such  as  are 
usually  looked  for  in  the  more  populous  and  well-to-do  communities 
in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Boston.  As  such  they  had  gone 
along  3'ear  after  year,  and  stood  not  unsuccessfully  the  test  of  the 
formal  committee  examinations  to  which  the}^  were  annually  sub- 
•  jected.  Those  examinations  were  a  study  for  the  humorist.  A 
day  was  publicly  assigned  for  each  school,  and  on  that  day  the 
children  were  present  in  their  best  clothes ;  the  benches  were 
crowded,  and  a  tolerable  representation  of  parents  and  friends  oc- 
cupied the  vacant  spaces  of  the  room.  The  committee  sat  upon 
the  platform  in  dignified  silence,  and  the  teacher  conducted  the 
exercises  over  safe  and  famiUar  ground  to  a  triumphant  con- 
clusion in  some  peculiarly  unnatm^al  bit  of  childish  declamation. 
Then  the  chairman  and  other  members  of  the  committee  were  asked 
to  gratif)'  the  children  with  a  few  remarks,  which  it  is  unnecessar}^ 
to  say  were  always  of  a  highl}'  commendatory  character.  The 
whole  thing  was  a  sham.  After  it  was  over  the  committee  knew 
nothing  more  about  the  school  than  they  did  before  it  began  ;  and, 
as  for  tests,  there  were  none. 

In  1873,  however,  a  change  was  introduced.  The  examinations 
assumed  a  wholly  new  character.  A  special  branch  of  studies  was 
assigned  to  each  member  of  the  committee,  and,  during  the  ex- 
aminations, the  schools  were  taken  wholl}'  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
instructors.  The  result  was  deplorable.  The  schools  went  to 
pieces.  Among  other  things,  for  instance,  it  was  found  that  the  A 
and  B  graimnar  scholars  throughout  the  town  could  parse  and  con- 
strue sentences,  and  point  out  the  various  parts  of  speech  with 
great  facility,  repeating  correctly  and  with  readiness  the  rules  of 
grammar  appHcable  in  each  case  ;  yet  when  called  upon  to  write  an 
ordinary  letter  they  were  utterly  unable  to  appl}^  the  rules  and  prin- 
ciples they  had  so  painfully  learned,  or  to  form  single  sentences,  or 
to  follow  any  rule  of  composition.  So,  also,  as  respects  reading. 
Rote  reading,  so  to  speak,  that  is  the  practised  reading  of  certain 
familiar  pieces  in  given  Readers,  had  been  brought  to  a  point  of 


33 


very  considerable  perfection.  If  the  examination  was  not  earned 
too  far,  the  classes  could  be  shown  off  to  gi'eat  advantage.  "Where 
the  severer  test  of  sight-reading,  that  is  the  reading  of  an  ordinary 
book  which  the  scholar  had  never  seen  before  it  was  put  by  the  ex- 
aniinor  into  his  hands  —  when  this  test  was  applied,  the  result  was 
simi;!}-  bewildering.  The  greater  part  of  the  scholars  could  merelj" 
stannner  and  bungle  along,  much  as  a  better  educated  person  does 
when  reading  a  book  in  some  language  with  which  he  is  onl}'  imper- 
fectly acquainted.  In  other  words,  it  appeared,  as  the  result  of 
eight  years'  school-teaching,  that  the  children,  as  a  whole,  could 
neither  wi'ite  with  facilit}'  nor  read  fluentl}'. 

Brought  face  to  face  with  such  a  condition  of  affairs  as  this,  the 
committee  certainly  were  not  guilt}"  of  a  too  strong  use  of  tenns 
when  they  said  in  the  extract  from  their  report  of  1873  which  has 
been  quoted,  that  the  pupils  of  the  schools  could  "  neither  speak 
nor  spell  their  own  language  ver}"  perfectly,  nor  read  and  wi'ite  it 
with  that  ease  and  elegance  which  is  deskable."  The  fact  was 
that  the  examinations  had  shown  that  in  far  too  manj^  cases  they 
could  neither  read  nor  wiite  it  at  all.  To  the  majorit}'  of  the  com- 
mittee the  reason  of  this  state  of  things  was  apparent.  The  school 
sj'stem  had  fallen  into  a  rut.  A  great  multiphcity  of  studies  had 
in  one  wa}'  and  another  been  introduced,  and  each  was  taught  by 
itself.  The  ever-present  object  in  the  teacher's  mind  was  to  pass  a 
creditable  examination ;  and,  to  insure  this,  he  unconsciously 
turned  his  scholars  into  parrots,  and  made  a  meaningless  farce  of 
education.  Certain  motions  had  to  be  gone  through  with  ;  for  real 
results  he  cared  nothing.  It  was,  in  a  word,  all  smatter,  veneer- 
ing and  cram.  So  far  as  the  Quinc}'  committee  of  1873  was  con- 
cerned, its  members  having  reached  then-  conclusions,  it  was  a 
simple  question  whether  the}'  would  leave  things  as  thej^  found 
them  or  attempt  a  wlioll}^  new  departure.  There  was  no  middle 
course  open.  As  affairs  stood,  it  was  plain  that  a  gi-eat  waste  of 
the  public  money  was  steadil}^  going  on ;  —  that  is,  the  statistics 
did  not  show  that  the  town  was  spending  an  undue  amount  on  its 
schools,  but  of  the  amount  it  was  spending  not  fifty  cents  out  of 
each  dollar  were  effectively  spent.  This  waste  could  only  be 
remedied  in  one  way.  The  cost  of  the  schools  could  not  be  re- 
duced, but  their   quality  could  be  improved.     It  was  absolutely 


34 


useless,  however,  to  look  for  any  steady  improvement  through  the 
efforts  of  individual  members  of  the  committee.  They  were  bus}^ 
men,  and  they  were  not  specialists  in  education.  Committees 
elected  by  popular  vote  are  entirely  unequal  to  any  sustained 
effort ;  and  only  through  a  sustained  effort  can  the  spirit  necessary 
to  any  permanent  improvement  be  infused  into  teachers,  and  a 
steady  direction  given  to  it. 

It  was  determined,  therefore,  to  ask  the  town  to  emplo}-  a 
superintendent  of  schools,  and  to  put  the  working-out  of  the  new 
system  in  his  hands.  This  was  done,  and  in  the  Spring  of  187.'3 
the  necessary  authority  was  obtained.  And  now  the  first  serious 
difficulty  presented  itself  in  the  practical  selection  of  a  superin- 
tendent ;  for  it  is  a  noticeable  fact  that,  large  and  costlj^  as  the  com- 
mon-school system  of  this  country  is  and  greatl}'  as  it  stands  in 
need  of  intelligent  dh'ection,  not  a  single  step  has  yet  been  taken 
towards  giving  it  such  a  direction  through  an  educated  superin- 
tendency.  Accordingly,  very  much  as  Bentham  defined  a  judge  as 
"  an  advocate  run  to  seed,"  the  ordinary  superintendent  is  apt  to 
be  a  grammar  school  teacher  in  a  similar  condition .  Where  he  is ' 
not  this,  he  is  usually  some  retired  clergyman  or  local  politician 
out  of  a  job,  who  has  no  more  idea  of  the  processes  of  mental 
development  or  the  science  of  training  than  the  average  school- 
master has  of  the  object  of  teaching  Enghsh  grammar.  The  blind 
are  thus  made  to  lead  the  blind,  and  naturall}^  both  plunge  deeper 
into  the  mire.  That  this  should  be  so  is  certainl}'^  most  singular, 
for  the  idea  of  managing  a  school  sj^stem  as  comphcatod  as  that  ol 
any  populous  New  England  town  has  now  become,  without  the 
assistance  of  some  trained  specialist,  is  manifestly  as  absurd  as  it 
would  be  to  tr}'  to  manage  a  coUege  without  a  president.  Yet  the 
superintendence'  is  not  yet  recognized  as  a  distinct  profession,  and, 
accordingly,  trained  men  not  being  supplied  for  it,  it  has  actually 
fallen  into  a  sort  of  discredit  through  the  wretched  substitutes  for 
trained  men  to  whom  towns  have  in  their  need  been  compelled  to 
have  recourse. 

All  this  the  members  of  the  school  committee  of  Quincy  did  but 
diml}'  appreciate  when  they  determined  to  try  their  experiment. 
They  had  a  definite  object  in  view,  in  accomplishing  which  ever^'- 
thiug  depended  on  their  selection  of  an  agent.      Their  object  was 


35 


to  improve  the  schools  while  not  increasing  their  cost ;  —  to  got 
one  hundred  cents  worth  of  value  for  every  dollar  of  the  town's 
mone}'.  According  to  their  own  admission  in  the  extract  from 
the  report  of  1873,  which  has  been  quoted,  there  had  been  no  per- 
ceptible improvement  during  the  ten  preceding  j'ears.  Yet  during 
those  years  the  annual  cost  to  the  town  of  educating  each  child  in 
the  public  schools  had  increased  from  six  dollars  to  fifteen  dollars. 
To  secm-e  the  senices  of  a  better  grade  of  teachers,  those  qualified 
to  give  a  direction  of  their  own  to  then*  instruction,  —  men  and 
women  of  ideas,  of  individuality,  as  it  is  termed,  —  would  have 
necessitated  a  general  rise  of  salaries  which  would  have  increased 
the  annual  cost  from  fifteen  dollars  to  at  least  thirty.  This  was 
out  of  the.  question.  The  burden  on  the  tax-payer  was  abeady 
heavy  enough.  Even  education  can  be  paid  for  at  too  high  a 
price,  and  it  is  useless  to  have  model  schools  if  no  one  but  the  tax- 
gatherer  can  afford  to  live  in  the  town  which  supports  them.  The 
only  other  wa}'  to  improve  the  system  was  to  concentrate  the 
directing  individuality'  in  one  man,  and  trust  to  him  to  infuse  his 
spirit  into  the  others.  One  man  the  town  could  afford  to  pa}' ; 
twenty  men  it  could  not  afford  to  pay.  The  tiling  was,  with  the 
means  at  their  command,  — the  salar}-  of  an  assistant  college  pro- 
fessor, —  to  secure  the  services  of  that  one  man. 

In  this  all-important  matter,  the  Quincy  committee  were  as  a 
whole  most  fortunate.  After  some  desultor}'  discussion  of  candi- 
dates, they  chanced  across  one  who  had  not  only  himself  taught, 
but  in  teaching  had  become  possessed  with  the  idea  that  it  was  a 
science,  and  that  he  did  not  understand  it.  Accordingly  he  had 
gone  abroad  in  search  of  that  training  which  he  was  unable  to  get 
in  America,  and  at  a  comparativelj-  matm-e  age  had  made  himself 
master  of  the  modern  German  theories  of  common-school  education. 
A  self-educated  and  self-made  man,  with  all  the  defects  as  well  as 
the  virtues  of  men  of  that  class,  he  was  now  eagerl}'  looking  about 
for  an  opportunity  to  put  his  theories  in  practice.  That  opportunity 
was  offered  him  in  Quinc}',  and  under  circumstances  pecuUarl}' 
favorable  to  success.  In  the  first  place  he  found  a  committee 
strong  in  the  confidence  of  the  town  and  holding  oflEice  with  a 
degTce  of  permanence  most  unusual,  the  members  of  which  were  in 
a  singularly  disgusted  and  dissatisfied  frame  of  mind.     They  had 


36 


reached  the  conclusion  that  the  whole  existing  system  was  wrong, 
— a  sj-stem  from  which  the  life  was  gone  out.  Acting  on  this  con- 
clusion, they  had  gone  to  work  to  remedy  matters  ;  but,  as  usually 
happens  in  such  cases,  the}'  had  succeeded  only  in  destroying  the 
old  system  without  developing  a  new  one.  They  had  bitterly 
attacked  the  unintelligent  instruction  the}'  found  going  on,  and 
they  had  made  school  after  school  go  hopelessly-  to  pieces  by 
calUng  on  overgi'own  children  to  practically  make  use  of  the 
knowledge  they  had  been  so  painfull}^  acquiring.  When  it  came, 
however,  to  substituting  a  better  method  of  instruction  for  that 
which  they  condemned,  they  had  their  own  affairs  to  attend 
to,  and  a  few  spasmodic,  half-matured  suggestions  of  something 
they  did  not  have  time  to  think  out,  was  all  the}'  could  do  for  the 
discom-aged  and  bewildered  teachers.  It  gradually,  therefore,  had 
begun  to  dawn  upon  them  that  they  had  taken  a  larger  contract  on 
their  hands  than  they  had  at  all  intended.  A  httle  too  much  of  the 
innovating,  questioning  spirit  had,  in  fact,  broken  down  something 
besides  the  school  system  of  the  town  ;  —  it  had  broken  down  the 
committee  system  as  well. 

Realizing  this,  —  conscious  of  the  fact  that  the}'  themselves  were 
unequal  to  the  work  befoi'e  them,  — the  members  of  the  committee 
were  also  sensible  enough  to  know  that  an  agent  to  be  successful 
must  have  a  chance.  He  must  not  be  continually  hampered  and 
thwarted  by  unnecessary  interference.  They  were  not,  as  under 
similar  circumstances  is  too  frequently  the  case,  jealous  of  their 
little  authority.  They  had  no  fear  of  losing  their  power,  and  no 
consequent  deshe  to  make  a  mere  huckster  of  their  superintendent 
by  degrading  him  into  a  purchasing  agent.  They  hstened  to  his 
plans  as  he  submitted  them,  and  gave  them  the  best  consideration 
they  could  ;  then,  once  those  plans  were  approved,  he  had  a  free 
field  in  which  to  carry  them  out,  with  the  understanding  that  by 
the  results,  and  the  results  alone,  would  he  l)e  judged. 

Meanwhile  the  members  of  the  connnittee  had  ideas  of  their  own, 
as  well  as  the  superintendent.  Most  fortunately,  —  for  it  was  a 
single  chance  in  a  hundred  that  it  should  so  happen,  and  yet  it  did 
so  happen,  —  Mr.  Parker,  while  he  brought  radical  theories  of  his 
own  to  the  work  in  hand,  fully  entered  into  and  s}'mpathized  with 
the  less  clearly  defined  ideas  of  the  connnittee.    There  was  no  con- 


37 


flict.  His  specialt}'  was  primaiy  instruction ;  the  later  methods 
and  practical  outcome  of  the  s^-stem  were  what  they  most  severely 
criticised.  The  result,  naturally,  was  a  gradual  but  complete  revo- 
lution, than  which  it  may  well  be  questioned  whether  the  common 
school  s^'stem  of  Massachusetts  has  of  late  3'ears  furnished  a  more 
interesting  or  instructive  stud3\ 

The  essence  of  the  new  sj^stem  was  that  there  was  no  sj-stem 
about  it ;  —  it  was  marked  tliroughout  b}'  intense  individualit}'. 
The  progi-amme  found  no  place  anywhere  in  it ;  on  the  contrar}', 
the  last  new  theory,  so  curiously  amplified  in  some  of  oiu-  larger 
cities,  that  vast  numbers  of  children  should  be  taught  as  trains  on 
railroads  are  run,  on  a  time-table  principle,  —  that  thej' are  here 
now,  that  thej-  will  be  at  such  another  point  to-morrow,  and  at  their 
terminus  at  such  a  date  ;  —  while  a  general  superintendent  sits  in 
his  central  office  and  pricks  off  each  step  in  the  advance  of  the 
whole  line  on  a  chart  before  him,  —  this  whole  theor}'  was  em- 
phaticall}'  dismissed.  In  place  of  it  the  tentative  principle  was 
adopted.  Experiments  were  to  be  cautiouslj'  tried  and  results  from 
time  to  time  noted.  The  revolution,  however,  was  all-pervading. 
Nothing  escaped  its  influence  ;  it  began  with  the  alphabet  and  ex- 
tended into  the  last  effort  of  the  grammar  school  course. 

The  most  noticeable  change,  however,  and  that  which  has  ex- 
cited the  most  general  interest  was  at  the  verj"  beginning,  —  in  the 
primaries.  The  old  "dame  school"  disappeared  at  once..  In 
place  of  it  appeared  something  as  different  as  hght  from  darkness. 
The  alphabet  itself  was  no  longer  taught.  In  place  of  the  old,  Ij'm- 
phatic,  listless  "  school-marm,"  pressing  into  the  minds  of  tired 
and  hstlcss  children  the  mj'stic  significance  of  certain  hierogl3'plucs 
by  mere  force  of  over-la3'ing,  as  it  were, — instead  of  this  time- 
honored  machine-process,  j'oung  women,  full  of  life  and  nervous 
entrg}-,  found  themselves  surrounded  at  the  blackboard  with 
groups  of  nttle  ones  who  were  learning  how  to  read  almost  without 
knowing  it;  —  learning  how  to  read,  in  a  word,  exactly'  as  they 
had  before  learned  how  to  speak,  not  by  rule  and  rote  and  by 
piecemeal,  but  altogether  and  b}*  practice.  The  hours  of  school 
were  kept  diversified ;  the  fact  was  recognized  that  httle  children 
were,  after  all,  little  children  still,  and  that  .long  confinement  was 
irksome  to  them.     A  play-table  and  t03's  were  furnished  them,  and 


38 


from  time  to  time  the  exercises  were  stopped  that  all  might  joiu  in 
physical  movement.  That  this  system  was  harder  for  the  teachers, 
—  calling  upon  them  at  all  times  to  activel}^  throw  themselves  into 
the  instruction  of  their  classes,  to  interest  them  and  to  keep  the 
school-room,  as  it  were,  in  motion,  — all  this,  goes  without  saving. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  while  more  exhausting,  it  was  also  far  more 
inspiriting.  The  drudgery  of  the  alphabet  was  gone,  —  so  was  the 
listless,  drawhng  instruction  ;  — there  was  a  sense  of  constant  activ- 
it}^  in  the  occupation,  which  gave  to  the  teacher  a  consciousnesd 
of  individuality  and  a  perceptible  pride  of  calling.  She  felt,  in 
fact,  that  she  was  doing  something  in  a  new  way,  and  doing  it  un- 
commonly weU. 

The  effect  produced  by  this  changed  school  atmosphere  on  the 
children  was,  however,  the  point  of  interest.  It  showed  itself  in 
the  way  least  possible  to  mistake  :  —  going  to  school  ceased  to  be 
a  home-sick  tribulation.  That  this  should  be  so  seem.s  opposed 
both  to  child-nature  and  to  all  human  experience  ;  and  j'et  that  it 
was  so  admitted  of  no  denial.  The  children  actually  went  to  school 
without  being  dragged  there.  Yet  the  reason  of  this  was  not  far 
to  seek.  The  simple  fact  was,  that  they  were  happier  and  more 
amused  and  better  contented  at  school  than  at  home.  The  drudgery 
of  the  impossible  primer  no  longer  made  infant  life  miserable. 
The  alphabet  was  robbed  of  its  terrors,  and  stole  upon  them  un- 
awares ;  while  the  most  confounding  thing  to  the  members  of  the 
committee  was,  that  in  hearing  the  primaries  read  not  a  child 
among  them  could  repeat  its  letters,  or  even  knew  their  names  ; 
unless,  perchance,  to  the  teacher's  increased  trouble,  they  had  been 
taught  them  at  home. 

So  daring  an  experiment  as  this  can,  however,  be  tested  in  but 
one  way  :  — by  its  practical  results,  as  proven  by  the  experience  of 
a  number  of  years,  and  testified  to  by  parents  and  teachers  as  well 
as  observed  in  children.  The  method  has  now  been  four  years  in 
use  in  the  schools  of  Quinc}^  and  has  ceased  to  be  an  experiment ; 
its  advantages  are  questioned  by  none,  least  of  all  b}'  teachers  and 
parents.  Among  the  teachers  are  those  who,  having  for  many 
years  taught  class  after  class  in  the  old  way,  found  themselves  called 
upon  to  attempt  with  deep  misgiving  the  new  and  to  them  mys- 
terious process.     They  now  join  their  testimony  to  the  others  and 


39 


confess  that,  to  human  beings,  even  though  the}'  be  children,  the 
ways  of  nature  are  the  easier  wa3's.  After  all  the  lesson  is  not  a  very 
profound  one,  and  it  is  strange  indeed  that  it  took  so  long  to 
find  it  out.  A  child  learns  to  talk  and  to  walk  —  the  two  most 
diflleult  things  it  is  called  on  to  learn  in  its  whole  life  —  without 
any  instruction  and  b}'  simple  practice  ;  the  process  of  learning  is 
not  painful  to  it  or  wearisome  to  others  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  an 
amusement  to  both.  Whj'  the  same  process  should  not  have  been 
pursued  in  other  and  less  difficult  branches  of  education  is  not  ap- 
parent. One  thing  only  is  clear :  it  was  not  pursued.  In  place  of 
it  an  arbitrary  system  of  names  and  sounds,  having  no  significance 
in  themselves,  and  of  rules  and  formulas  absolutelj^  unintelligible 
except  to  the  mature  intellect,  was  adopted ;  and  with  these,  gen- 
eration after  generation  of  children  have  been  tortured.  Onl}"" 
now  do  we  deign  in  imparting  knowledge  to  give  any  attention  to 
natural  processes,  which  have  forever  been  going  on  before  our 
e3'es  and  in  our  families,  and  yet  we  profess  to  think  that  there  is 
no  science  in  primarj'  education,  and  that  all  that  there  is  to  it  can 
be  learned  in  a  few  hours.  The  simple  fact  is,  however,  that  within 
these  few  5'ears  it  required  a  man  of  absolute  genius  to  discover 
how  to  teach  the  alphabet. 

The  new  departm'c,  therefore,  started  with  the  Quincy  primaries, 
and  it  left  little  in  them  that  had  not  undergone  a  change.  The 
reorganization  was  complete.  This,  however,  was  entirely  the 
work  of  Superintendent  Parker ;  the  committee  simpl}''  gave  him 
a  free  field  to  experiment  in,  and  the  result  full}-  justified  them  in 
so  doing.  Ascending  into  the  several  gi-ades  of  gTammar  schools 
the  case  was  somewhat  different.  The  committee  there  had  their 
own  views,  and  those  \dews  were  little  else  than  an  emphatic  pro- 
test against  the  whole  present  tendenc}^  of  the  educational  s^'stem 
of  Massachusetts,  whether  school,  academic,  or  universit}'.  If 
there  is  one  thing  which  may  be  considered  more  characteristic 
of  that  system  of  late  years  than  another,  it  is  its  tendency'  to 
multiply  branches  of  stud}^  The  school  j'ear  has  become  one  long 
period  of  diffusion  and  cram,  the  object  of  which  is  to  success- 
full}'  pass  a  stated  series  of  examinations.  This  leads  directly  to 
superficiaUty.  Smatter  is  the  order  of  the  day..  To  enter  college 
the  boy  of  seventeen  must  know  a  little  of  ever}'thing  ;  but  it  is  not 


40 


necessary  for  him  to  know  anything  well,  —  not  even  how  to  write 
his  own  language.  From  this  the  vicious  system  has  gone  up 
through  the  professional,  and  down  thi-ough  the  high,  to  the  very 
lowest  gi'ade  of  grammar  school.  No  matter  whether  it  can  under- 
stand it  or  not,  the  child  must  be  taught  a  httle  of  everything ; 
at  any  rate  enough  of  it  to  pass  an  examination.  Against  this 
whole  theor}^  and  sj'stem  the  Quincy  school  committee  resolutel}' 
set  their  faces.  Thej^  did  not  beUeve  in  it ;  they  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  Instead  of  being  multiplied,  the  number 
of  studies  should,  they  insisted,  be  reduced.  It  was  impossible  to 
teach  ever3i:hing  in  a  grammar-school  course,  and  for  the  vast 
majority  of  children  a  thorough  grounding  in  the  elements  of 
knowledge  was  all  that  could  be  given.  The  attempt  to  give  more 
simply  resulted  in  not  giving  that.  In  proof  of  this  the  examina- 
tion papers  for  admission  to  high  schools  were  appealed  to.  These 
showed  the  acqukements  of  the  more  proficient  scholars  ;  for  as  a 
rule  it  is  they  who  go  to  the  high  schools.  Judging  by  these 
papers  the  graduates  of  the  grammar  schools  were  very  far  from 
being  proficient  in  either  writing,  spelling  or  gi-ammar.  Now, 
these  are  things  which  the  common  schools  can  and  should  give  all 
children,  no  matter  what  else  is  sacrificed.  The}'  are  not  given, 
however,  for  the  simple  reason  that  to  give  them  requires  prac- 
tice, and  the  multiplicity  of  studies  forbids  practice  in  any  one 
stud3\  The  results  of  the  old  system  in  Quincy,  as  brought  to 
light  through  the  earlier  examinations,  have  alread}'  been  referred 
to  ;  the  ridiculous  knowledge,  for  instance,  of  parts  of  speech 
and  abstract  rules  of  grammar,  acquired  in  order  to  be  able  to 
parse  complicated  sentences,  but  combined  with  an  utter  inabilit}- 
to  correctly  write  or  decently  spell  the  Avords  of  the  most  ordinur}' 
letter. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  general  polic}'  outlined  by  the 
committee  was  sufficiently  radical.  Its  execution  was  entrusted 
wholly  to  the  superintendent.  Education  was  to  recur  to  first 
principles.  Not  much  was  to  be  attempted ;  but  whatever  was 
attempted  was  to  be  thoroughly  done,  and  to  be  tested  b}'  its 
practical  results,  and  not  by  its  theoretical  importance.  Above 
all,  the  simple  comprehensible  processes  of  nature  were  to  be  ob- 
served.    Children  were  to  learn  to  read  and  write  and  C}T^>her  as 


41 


they  learned  to  swim,  or  to  skate,  or  to  play  ball.  The  rule  by 
which  the  thing  was  clone  was  nothing ;  the  fact  that  it  was  done 
well  was  ever;ything.  As  early  as  1873  the  committee  had,  in  the 
report  ahead}'  quoted  from,  expressed  the  opinion  that,  "  as  now 
taught  in  our  schools,  EngUsh  gi'ammar  is  a  singularl}'  unproiitable 
branch  of  instruction."  It  was  now  immediately  hustled  out  of 
them  ;  and  the  reader  was  sent  after  the  gi-ammar ;  and  the  spell- 
ing-book after  the  reader ;  and  the  copy-book  after  the  speller. 
Then  the  process  of  simpUfication  began.  Eeading  at  sight,  and 
writing  off-hand  were  to  constitute  the  basis  of  the  new  system. 
The  faculty  of  doing  either  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  could, 
however,  be  acquii'ed  only  in  one  way, — by  constant  practice. 
Practice  took  time,  and  neither  school  days  nor  school  hours  were 
endless.  Economy  of  time,  therefore,  was  above  all  else  neces- 
sary ;  and  economy  of  time  was  wholly  incompatible  with  multi- 
plicity of  studies.  Under  the  old  system,  everjthing  had  been 
taught  separatel}'.  The  reading  lesson,  the  writing  lesson,  the 
spelling  lesson  had,  in  regular  order,  followed  the  lesson  in  gi-ammar, 
and  in  arithmetic,  and  in  geography,  and  in  history.  Two  after- 
noon half-hours  a  week,  for  instance,  would  be  devoted  to  the 
cop3'-books,  a  blotted  pile  of  which  on  the  master's  desk  testified 
unmistakabl}'  to  the  inadequate  results  reached.  The  children 
then  could  glibly  tell  what  a  peninsula  was,  but  the}'  did  not  know 
one  when  they  hved  on  it ;  they  could  stand  up  and  spell  in  a 
spelling-bee,  but  put  a  pen  in  then-  hands  and  the  havoc  they  made 
with  orthography  was  wonderful.  Seven  studies  have  been  enmuer- 
ated ;  all  considered  elementary.  Instead  of  adding  yet  others 
to  these,  the  direction  of  the  committee  was  that  they  should 
be  reduced  to  three,  —  "the  thi-ee  R's,"  —  reading,  writing,  and 
arithmetic. 

The  process  by  which  this  was  to  be  brought  about  was  simple 
enough.  Reading  and  writing  were  to  be  regarded  as  elementary ; 
as  such  they  were  to  be  taught  in  the  primary  schools.  They 
were  to  be  taught  there  also  by  incessant  practice,  book  and 
pencil  in  hand ;  and  no  scholar  who  could  not  read  at  sight  and 
write  with  comparative  ease  could  be  considered  ready  for  promo- 
tion. Then,  in  the  grammar  grades,  concentration  was  reduced  to 
a  system.     Instruction  in  reading,  Avi'iting,  gi-ammar,  speUing,  ajid, 


42 


to  a  very  considerable  degree,  in  history  and  geography  were  com- 
bined in  two  exercises,  —  reading  and  writing.  The  old  reader 
having  disappeared,  the  teacher  was  at  liberty  to  put  in  the  hands 
of  the  class  geogi-aphies,  or  histories,  or  magazine  articles,  and, 
having  read  them  first,  the  scholars  might  write  of  them  after- 
wards to  show  that  they  understood  them.  Their  attention  was 
thus  secured,  and  the  pen  being  continually  in  the  hand,  the}' wrote 
as  readily  as  they  spoke,  and  spelling  came  with  practice.  Under 
this  system  the  absurdity  of  ever  having  expected  any  adequate 
results  from  the  old  one  became  apparent.  How  even  the  poor  re- 
sults which  had  been  obtained,  were  obtained,  was  matter  of  surprise. 
To  illustrate  this,  it  is  but  necessary  to  revert  to  some  of  the  other 
branches  of  education,  and,  realizing  the  method  in  which  they  are 
acquired,  to  then  compare  it  with  the  methods  adopted  in  the 
schools  for  imparting  branches  scarcely  less  difficult.  Take,  for 
instance,  walking  and  talking  again,  the  examples  already  re- 
ferred to.  Every  child  acquires  these  perfectly ;  he  is  whoUj^  at 
home  on  his  feet  and  talks  with  absolute  facility.  He  acquires 
them  thus  perfectly  by  constant  practice.  He  never  in  his  life 
would  learn  to  walli  firmly  or  to  talli  fluentty  if  he  were  shut  up  in 
a  sitting  posture,  and,  after  being  elaboratel}'  instructed  in  the 
principles  of  equilibrium  and  articulation,  were  practised  in  actual 
walliing  and  tallving  for  half  an  hour  a  da}'  each.  Yet  this  was 
exactly  what  was  done  under  the  old  sj^stem  of  the  Quiucy  schools 
as  respects  reading  and  writing.  The  gi-ammar  and  the  copy-book 
efi"ectually  put  a  stop  to  all  chance  of  facihty  in  either  ;  for  children 
are  slow  to  learn,  and  the  time  given  to  the  study  of  formulas  is 
time  lost  in  practice. 

In  arithmetic  no  great  changes  or  improvement  in  the  methods 
of  instruction  as  yet  seem  possible.  The  faculty  of  dealing  readily 
with  figures  is  given  to  some  people  and  is  withheld  from  others  ; 
that  with  sufficient  attention  and  labor  almost  anj'  one  can  acquire 
a  tolerable  degree  of  proficiency  with  them  is  of  course  imdeniable  ; 
but  that  it  can  be  acquired  except  bj'  a  strict  regard  to  formulas 
patiently  learned,  is,  at  least,  doubtful.  As  respects  gcogra])hy  it 
is  by  no  means  so,  and  in  no  stud}'  has  the  new  departure  in  the 
C^uinc}'  schools  been  more  marked  than  in  this.  The  old  method 
all  are  familiar  with,  for  lliere  are  few  indeed  who  have  ever  been 


43 


into  a  regulation  school  who  have  not  heard  child  after  child  gliblj 
chatter  out  the  boundaries  and  capitals,  and  principal  towns  and 
rivers  of  States  and  nations,  and  enumerate  the  waters  you  would 
pass  through  and  the  ports  you  would  make  in  a  A'oj-age  from  Boston 
to  Calcutta,  or  New  York  to  St.  Petersburg.  What  it  all  amounted 
to  is  another  matter.  It  approached  terribly  near  the  old  rote 
methods.  Go,  to-day,  into  the  Quincy  schools  and  in  a  few  moments 
two  or  three  .young  children,  standing  about  an  earth  board  and 
handling  a  little  heap  of  moistened  clay,  will  shape  out  for  you  a 
continent,  with  its  mountains,  rivers,  depressions,  and  coast  inden- 
tations, designating  upon  it  the  principal  cities,  and  giving  a  gen- 
eral idea  of  its  geographical  peculiarities.  I  do  not  know  whether, 
so  far  as  utility  is  concerned,  the  result  obtained  under  this  method 
is  ver}'  different  from  that  obtained  under  the  other.  Geography 
is  not  lilvc  reading,  writing,  or  arithmetic.  In  the  practical  work 
of  ordinary  hfe  a  knowledge  of  it  is  an  accomplishment  rather  than 
a  thing  of  necessar3-  daily  use.  But  there  is  this  difference  between 
the  two  methods  :  the  study  under  the  new  method  becomes  full  of 
life  and  interest ;  while  under  the  old  it  was  as  tedious  and  as  much 
like  arithmetic  and  gi'ammar  as  it  could  be  made. 

Such  was  the  theory,  and  obviousl}'  in  that  its  aim  was  thorough- 
ness,—  which  it  sought  to  secure  b}' attempting  little, — it  was  a 
complete  negation  of  the  whole  present  common-school  system, 
founded  on  a  faith  in  the  infinite  capacity  of  children  to  know  at  an 
early  age  a  little  of  everything.  By  its  results  only  could  this  also 
be  judged,  and  opinions  seem  to  differ  as  to  what  is  after  all  the  end 
and  aim  of  a  common-school  education.  On  this  point,  however, 
the  Quinc}'  coimuittee  had  early  defined  their  position.  In  their 
report  of  1873  they  had  laid  down  utihty  as  the  one  and  onl}'  end 
which  should  always  be  kept  in  view.  They  had  then  said,  —  "  The 
studies  pursued  in  our  common-school  course  should  be  so  pursued 
that  they  may  result  in  sometliing  of  direct  use  in  the  ordinar}' 
lives  of  New  England  men  and  women."  This  being  the  object 
they  had  in  view,  the  success  or  failure  of  their  new  departure  was 
to  be  measured  by  what  it  actually  accompUshed  in  that  wa}-,  and 
b)''  nothing  else.  The  faculty  of  easily  writing  an  ordinarj-  letter 
on  a  business  topic,  correctly  spelled  and  properly  expressed,  is  a 
valuable  faculty  to  have  of  every-day  utihty.     A  knowledge  of  the 


M 


rules  of  graminar  may  be  useful  to  critics  and  scholars,  but  in  the 
lives  of  ordinary  men  and  women  it  can  be  regarded  only  as  a  use- 
less accomplishment.  The  complete  expulsion  of  the  grammar 
from  the  schools  seemed  to  take  away  the  breath  of  the  old-time 
masters.  It  had  been  taught  from  the  beginning ;  it  was  a  tradi- 
tion ;  it  could  not  be  but  in  ordinary  life  there  was  utihty  in  the 
study. 

"  Ah,  but  traditions,  inventions, 

"  (Said  they,  and  made  up  a  visage) 
"  So  many  men  with  such  various  intentions 

"  Down  the  past  ages  must  know  more  than  this  age  ! 
"  Leave  the  web  all  its  dimensions  !  " 

But  the  web  came  down  none  the  less.  And  what  were  the  practi- 
cal results  ?  —  When,  after  three  years,  a  class  brought  up  under  the 
new  system  was  put  to  the  test,  the  examiner  expressed  a  "  doubt 
if  one  scholar  in  ten  knew  what  a  noun,  a  pronoun,  or  an  adjective 
w^as,  or  could  have  parsed  a  sentence,  or  explained  the  difference 
between  its  subject  and  its  predicate.  They  could,  however,  put 
their  ideas  into  sentences  on  paper  with  correctness  and  facility  ; 
and,  though  they  could  not  define  what  they  were,  the}'  showed 
that  they  could  use  nouns,  pronouns  and  adjectives,  in  writing, 
just  as  well  as  they  could  in  speech."  Out  of  500  grammar-school 
children,  taken  promiscuously  from  all  the  schools,  no  less  than 
400  showed  results  which  were  either  excellent  or  satisfactory. 

That  the  scholars  could  read  at  sight,  without  bungling  and 
stumbling  over  ever}'  unusual  word  the  moment  the}'  left  the 
familiar  page  of  their  Readers,  — that  the}'  could  write  a  simple  letter 
without  being  painfully  conscious  of  an  unaccustomed  labor, — 
these,  though  very  considerable,  were  by  no  means  the  only  or  even 
the  most  noticeable  results  of  the  new  departure.  In  the  tipper 
grammar  as  well  as  the  lowest  primary  there  ^as  an  entire  change 
of  spirit,  and  going  to  school  was  no  longer  what  it  had  been.  This 
was  recognizctl  by  the  parents  quite  as  much  as  by  the  teachers. 
Not  only  was  there  a  marked  improvement  in  attendance,  but  the 
attendance  was  cheerful.  The  "whining  school-boy"  was  no 
longer  seen  "  wending  like  snail  uuwilHagly  to  school;"  and,  re- 
membering what  had  been,  it  was  certainly  most  pleasant  to  go  into 


45 


the  rooms  and  feel  the  atmosphere  of  cheerfulness,  activity  and 
interest  which  prevaded  them.  Not  that  the  cliildren  lilced  their 
vacations  less,  but  the}'  liad  ceased  to  dislike  their  school-rooms  ; 
and  to  those  who  remember  as  vividly  as  most  persons  over  thirty 
do,  the  wliolly  unattractive,  not  to  sa}'  repulsive  character  both  of 
the  old-time  school  teaching  and  the  old-time  school  discipline,  this 
change  is  one  for  which  those  who  enjoj^  the  advantage  of  it  may 
w'ell  be  grateful. 

The  improvement  of  the  schools  under  the  new  departure,  while 
free]}-  admitted  l)y  teachers,  parents  and  committee,  was  made  even 
more  clearly  apparent  by  the  general  interest  the  experiment  ex- 
cited, and  the  number  of  those  from  all  parts  who  came  to  see  for 
themselves  what  was  being  done.  Before  1875  no  visitor  ever 
entered  the  schools  of  Quincy,  except  some  parent  now  and  then, 
or  an  occasional  acquaintance  of  a  teacher.  In  1878  the  number 
of  those  coming  to  observe  the  new  sj'stem,  especially  teachers  and 
specialists  in  education,  was  so  great  that  it  threatened  seriousl}- 
to  interfere  with  instruction,  and  the  committee  found  themselves 
obhged  to  take  measures  towards  regulating  it.  The  teacher  of 
the  lowest  primary  of  the  Coddington,  the  school  under  m}'  more 
particuhir  charge,  reported,  for  instance,  385  visitors  during  the 
five  months,  February  to  June,  and  113  in  April  alone. 

But  while  the  improvement  was  apparent  enough,  and  did  not 
need  to  be  pointed  out,  the  all-important  questions  remained,  — At 
what  money  cost  was  it  bought  ?  —  If  it  involved  a  heavy  addition  to 
taxes,  no  matter  howgi-eat  the  improvement,  it  was  none  the  less  a 
failure.  The  common-school  S3stem  of  Massachusetts  was,  in  view 
of  the  committee,  in  ver}'  great  danger  of  crushing  the  community 
it  was  meant  to  protect.  The  average  annual  cost  of  educating  a 
child  in  Quincy  had  increased  five-fold  in  thkty  ^ears,  and  the  ex- 
perience of  Quincy  in  this  respect  was  not  exceptional.  It  has 
ah'ead}'  been  suggested  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  taxing  a  com- 
munity to  death,  and  it  is  quite  apparent  that  the  recent  ratio  of 
increase  in  taxation  for  school  purposes,  will,  if  it  goes  on,  soon 
atford  in  the  case  of  Massachusetts  a  practical  illustration  of  the 
process.  The  efibrt  in  Quinc}'  had  therefore  been  to  so  economize 
expen<liture  In'  better  and  more  intelligent  direction  that  the  town 
should  get  in  value  received  one  hundred  cents  for  each  dollar  spent, 


46 


instead  of  fifty  or  perhaps  only  forty  cents  as  had  before  been  the 
case.  On  this  economical  calculation  the  whole  action  of  the  com- 
mittee was  based.  The  money  question  was  kept  steadily  in  view, 
and  never  for  a  moment  did  they  allow  the  supei'intendent's  zeal  in 
liis  work  to  hide  it.  The  whole  thing  was  a  failure  unless  at  least 
twice  the  educacational  results  were  obtained  for  the  same  mone}'. 
On  this  point  the  figures  of  their  annual  reports  told  the  whole 
story,  and  it  was  a  plain  and  unmistakable  stor3^  In  1875,  when 
the  new  departure  was  made,  the  annual  cost  of  educating  each 
child  was  $19.24  ;  three  j-ears  later,  in  1878,  it  was  $15. G8.  AVhile 
the  qiiality  of  the  instruction  given  had  been  immeasurably  im- 
proved, its  cost  had  been  reduced  one-fifth. 

So  far  as  the  cost  of  educating  children  in  the  pubuc  schools  is 
concerned,  the  computations  of  the  State  Board  of  Education  in- 
clude apparentl}'  onl}^  the  amounts  appropriated  by  the  various 
cities  and  towns  for  salaries  of  teachers  and  the  heating  and  care 
of  school-rooms,  and  the  important  and  constantly  gi-owing  item  of 
incidentals  is  omitted  from  them.  The  basis  is,  however,  pre- 
sumably the  same  in  all  cases,  and,  accepting  it  for  the  purposes  of 
comparison,  the  accompanying  table  is  not  without  interest.  It 
covers  through  a  period  of  twenty*  j^ears  the  annual  cost  of  pub- 
lic school  education  per  scholar  in  Quincy  and  twenty  of  the 
principal  cities  and  towns,  selected  at  haphazard,  from  all  sections 
of  the  State.  It  will  be  noticed  that  not  onl}"  thi'oughout  the  whole 
period,  but  during  the  last  three  years  of  change,  and  in  the  3'ear 
1878,  of  all  the  twenty-one  cities  and  towns  named,  Quinc}'  came 
most  nearly  to  the  average  of  the  whole  Commonwealth.  Both  in 
the  earlier  period,  during  which  its  schools  were  of  the  usual  de- 
scription, and  during  the  later  period  of  their  reform,  the  cost  of 
educating  each  scholar  in  them  was  about  54  per  cent,  that  of 
educating  each  scholar  in  the  schools  of  Brookline,  Milton,  Newton 
and  Boston  taken  together.  It  is  exactl}^  55  per  cent,  of  it  now. 
The  simple  question  is,  and  it  is  a  most  interesting  question  not 
only  for  the  other  sixteen  towns  specified  in  the  table  but  for  the 
whole  State,  are  the  results  arrived  at  in  the  schools  of  Brookline, 
Milton,  Newton  and  Boston  within  a  mere  fraction  of  twice  as 
good  as  those  arrived  at  in  the  schools  of  Quincy?  —  Are  they  any 
better  at  all? 


m  1859  to  187S;  and  Amnial  Arcrarje  and  Total 
iod. 


Vear. 


1859 
1%0 
1861 
1862 
1863 
1864 
1865 
1S66 
1867 
1868 
1869 
1870 
1871 
1N72 
1873 
1874 
1875 
1876 
1S77 
1878 
Aver'ge 
185;t-78 
Aver'ge 
1876-8 


$7  90 

7  77 

7  82 

7  67 

7  00 

7  19 

7  92 

9  70 

10  13 

9  90 

10  57 

10  63 

12  70 

12  94 

13  90 
13  85 
13  48 

13  61 
12  96 
15  98 

10  68 

14  18 


$6  41 
6  63 
6  48 
5  91 

5  92 

6  27 
6  86 
8  98 

8  57 

9  06 

8  94 

9  21 
9  29 
9  86 

10  90 

11  74 

14  37 

15  85 

16  38 
15  72 

9  66 


$6  78 
7  24 
7  53 
6  74 

5  67 

6  02 

7  36 
9  75 

11  19 
13  18 
15  10 

15  30 

16  00 

18  01 
20  15 
23  64 
22  71 
20  47 

19  97 
16  46 

13  46 

18  96 


$5  00 

4  77 

4  71 

5  66 

4  48 

5  28 
5  05 
5  39 
5  99 
7  31 

7  96 

8  43 
8  66 

11  24 
11  38 
11  75 
11  17 
11  44 

11  71 
13  34 

8  03 

12  16 


$7  27 
7  50 

6  60 

7  90 
7  83 

7  90 

8  82 
8  Oi) 

10  67 
13  81 
13  46 

13  21 
12  85 
12  57 

14  09 
17  58 
14  31 

12  93 
14  38 

13  69 

11  27 
13  66 


■°  ^-^  .^  ■-  t  & 
2  i  dZ  £  J  ■—  ? 


"■  i;  o  T  "  ^  ; 

ii:  ^-JD  3^  c 


$6  a4 
«  4a 

6  41 
O  44 

6  04 

G  itH 

T  82 
9  OS 
9  89 

10  84 

11  50 
11  78 

13  86 
l:t  »5 

14  TO 
14  96 
14  81 
14  81 
14  :to 

lO  31 

14  64 


$1,390,382  34 
1,428,476  02 
1,475,948  76 
l,5UO,501  13 
1,434,015  20 
1,53(),:3I4  31 
1,782,624  62 
1,993,177  39 
2,355,505  96 
2,635,774  06 
2  923,708  -70 
3,125,0.)3  09 
3,272,335  33 
3,594,686  38 
3,889,053  80 
4,253,211  17 
4,358,523  59 
4,400,898  59 
4,331,675  85 
4,191,510  77 


Relative  order  of  cities  and 

towns  specitied  during 

each  period. 


Amherst  .  .  . 
Boston  .  .  .  . 
Brookline  .  . 
Cambridge  .  . 
Fall  liivcr  .  . 
Fitchburg  .  . 
Lawrence  .  . 
Lowell  .  ,.  .  . 
Lynn  .  '.  .  . 
W'ilton  .  .  .  . 
New  Bedford  . 
Newburyport 
Newton  .  .  . 
Northampton 
Pittsfleld  .  .  . 
Plymouth  .  . 
Qiiincy  .  . 
Salem  .  .  .  . 
Springfield  .  . 
Taunton  .  .  . 
Worcester  .    . 


00 

A 

-A 

00 

00 

13 

17 

4 

4 

1 

1 

6 

5 

20 

19 

15 

9 

16 

20 

8 

10 

14 

13 

3 

3 

7 

18 

18 

2 

2 

17 

16 

21 

10 

12 

11 

11 

12 

8 

6 

6 

19 

15 

9 

14 

1 

Animal  Appropriation  per  Scholar  i 


>,  Quincy,  and  twenty  principal  Towns  and  Cities  of  the  State,  through  Twenty  i'e 
Amount  raised  throughout  the  State  for  support  of  PuUic  Schools  during  s 


■s.from  1859  to  187S;  and  Anrnual  Average  and  Total 
ie  period. 


l^d 











J-  ^^kfili 

%^% 

■H 

w 

c 

'^:^      tj  •"  =  =  5^  g 

Year. 

$a  54 

s 

1 

a 

1 

1 

5 
O 

2 

t 

1 

S 

S' 

a 

1 

z 

3 
1 
"A 

3 
1 

a 

1 

^ 

a 

1 

1 
?• 

J 
1 

i|||=|| 

$10  27 

$18  27 

$S  94 

$5  57 

$:.  64 

$7  06 

$9  00 

$7  54 

$9  19 

$10  13 

$4  82 

«9  00 

$5  06 

$3  92 

$7  90 

$6  41 

$6  78 

$5  00 

$7  27 

S6a4 

S1,390,3S2  34 

9  09 

8  38 

8  26 

7  85 

9  18 

7  87 

5  63 

9  43 

4  86 

7  81 

5  06 

9  96 

7  92 

5  23 

18  53 

S  13 

6  23 

3  S4 

6  66 

8  73 

5  76 

9  32 

8  35 

4  88 

9  37 

6  99 

5  94 

7  32 

10  14 

7  15 

10  86 

10  30 

6  74 

5  34 

10  28 

6  48 

6  59 

7  81 

7  02 

13  81 

10  62 

6  96 

13  36 

6  00 

9  75 

7  33 

8  12 

17  82 

11  59 

7  71 

16  84 

8  13 

6  99 

10  13 

8  67 

11  19 

2.355,505  96 

8  74 

19  SO 

11  68 

20  02 

7  73 

6  65 

9  90 

9  06 

13  18 

o  ss 

19  19 

9  13 

7  47 

10  67 

8  04 

15  10 

7  96 

lO  81 

9  04 

14  03 

8  -S 

13  51 

9  24 

21  40 

9  56 

10  02 

10  63 

9  21 

16  30 

8  43 

11  56 

3,126,0,.3  09 

9  50 

13  66 

9  22 

14  28 

9  79 

22  63 

12  39 

7  71 

12  70 

9  29 

16  00 

8  66 

12  85 

11  7S 

3,272,335  33 

1"  114 

14  ■;:! 

10  87 

20  91 

14  72 

9  48 

22  49 

12  03 

8  09 

12  94 

9  86 

18  01 

11  24 

12  57 

12  8« 

3,694,686  38 

16  72 

11  85 

22  54 

15  37 

10  22 

24  40 

12  43 

9  00 

13  00 

10  90 

20  15 

11  38 

23  32 

IS  67 

9  86 

12  87 

n  84 

19  83 

11  63 

25  00 

15  83 

13  31 

23  52 

12  99 

8  77 

13  85 

11  74 

23  64 

11  75 

14  7« 

4,233,211  17 

19  90 

7  24 

15  48 

10  47 

16  03 

14  26 

28  20 

11  66 

11  48 

13  48 

14  37 

22  71 

11  17 

14  31 

14  a» 

4,358.523  69 

22  71 

22  33 

10  80 

10  93 

15  06 

14  55 

22  18 

16  54 

11  24 

29  09 

12  74 

11  43 

13  61 

15  85 

20  47 

11  44 

12  93 

14  SI 

4,400.898  59 

21  37 

11  40 

16  30 

11  00 

14  76 

13  68 

2S  57 

17  36 

12  57 

26  03 

12  03 

12  96 

16  38 

1878 

62 

13  94 

10  97 

22  40 

27  84 

19  OS 

9  80 

15  15 

9  85 

14  92 

13  67 

26  80 

16  67 

10  41 

24  06 

10  81 

9  66 

16  98 

15  72 

16  46 

13  34 

4,191,610  77 

1859-78 

44 

lo  an 

9  49 

17  2S 

25  02 

13  38 

7  47 

9  23 

8  81 

12  44 

9  26 

17  63 

12  66 

8  24 

17  96 

8  72 

6  78 

10  68 

9  66 

13  46 

8  03 

11  27 

lo  ai 

187fr-8 

49 

14  40 

11  77 

22  96 

31  S4 

21  08 

10  66 

15  45 

10  69 

14  91 

13  93 

25  85 

16  85 

11  41 

26  39 

11  86 

10  02 

14  18 

15  98 

13  96 

12  16 

13  66 

14  64 

Appropriation  i 


»  Twenty  Principal  Town 


Milton  .... 

Springfitld!  '. 
Cnmljrklge  .  . 
Now  Bedford 


Average    of   Com- 
monivealtlt ... 


Norlliaiiiplon 
Newliuryport 


Three  years,  1876-8. 


.^pringfipkl  .    . 
Ntw  Bedford 


Brooklinc 

Milton 

Newton     .   .■ 

Boaton 

Cambridee 

New  Bedford     .... 

epiingHeld 

Plymouth 

Salem 

Fitchburg 

Lowell 

Average    of    Com' 
mouivealth  -   .   . 

ftiilncy 

Worcester 

&;;;:::: 

NorLlmniplon     .... 
Newburyport    .... 

Fallllivpr   WW'.'. 
Pittsfield 


Itelative  order  of  ciliei 

towiiB  specitied  duri 
eacli  period. 


Amherst  . 
BoBton  .  . 
Brookline 
Cambridge 


I 

3 

^ 

" 

13 

1 

15 
16 

8 
14 

3 

IS 
2 

11 

17 

4 
1 

13 

18 

16 
21 
12 
11 

6 
16 
14 

47 


Tho  price  paid  b}'  the  citizens  of  Quincy  is  the  average  price  paid 
tiironi>li(>ut  the  Commonwealth.  During  sixteen  years  of  instruc- 
tion of  the  ordinary  badness  it  was  a  trifle  more  than  the  average  ; 
during  four  years  of  exceptional!}-  good  instruction  it  has  been  a 
trille  less.  The  (iuinc^'comuvittee,  therefore,  now  confidently  claim 
that  they  have  demonstrated  the  second,  and,  from  a  practical  point 
of  view,  b)'  far  the  most  important  of  their  two  propositions.  That 
a  good  common-school  education  could  be  had  at  some  cost,  no  one 
ever  doubted  ;  they  claim  that  they  have  shown  it  could  be  had  at 
a  reasonable  and  average  cost.  Under  other  circumstances,  also, 
they  insist  that  a  much  better  showing  ought  to  be  made  ;  for 
in  Quincy  the  number  of  children  in  the  several  schools  is  not 
sufficiently  large  to  admit  of  that  perfect  grading  througii  which 
only  the  best  educational  results  can  be  combined  with  the  utmost 
economy.  For  example,  in  one  school  of  that  town  the  salary 
of  the  teacher  alone  averages  $50  a  year  to  each  scholar  taught, 
while  if  the  school  was  full  it  would  average  but  $20.  Taking 
results  as  they  are,  however,  under  conditions  not  peculiarly- 
favorable  to  good  results,  the  conclusion  of  general  interest  to 
be  drawn  from  all  this  is,  as  the  Quincy  committee  submits,  that 
the  present  average  school  appropriation  of  Massachusetts  is 
ample  to  sustain  the  common  schools  of  the  State  at  the  high- 
est point  of  excellence  anywhere  known  to  them.  To  do  this, 
however,  it  must  be  intelligently  applied  and  not  ignorantly 
muddled  away.  Honesty  and  good  intentions  are  not  enough ; 
some  science  is  here  necessar}-.  At  present,  among  other  things, 
well-meaning  stupidity,  gi'cediness  of  petty  authorit}-  and  jealousy 
of  superior  knowledge  on  the  part  of  local  school  committees  are 
proving  terribly  exi^ensive  luxuries  to  onr  towns.  Studied  in  the 
light  of  the  recent  experience  of  Quincy,  the  statistics  of  the  Board 
of  Education  show  clearl}-  enough  that  under  a  moderate  computa- 
tion an  annual  waste  of  some  two  millions  a  3-ear  is  now  regularl}- 
going  on  in  Massachusetts  from  the  lack  of  a  pervading  and  intel- 
ligent direction  of  expenditures  for  school  purposes.  A  sufficientl}- 
good  education,  an  incomparabl}-  better  education  than  is  now 
given,  can  and  should  be  given  at  an  annual  cost  not  exceeding 
Si 7  per  scholar  at  the  utmost  and  including  everything  except  new 
buildings,  and  no  good  reason  exists  w-hy  that  amount  should  ever 


47 


Tho  pvice  paid  hy  tlie  citizens  of  Quiiicy  is  the  average  price  paid 
liii()u<ili(nit  the  Commonwealth.  During  sixteen  years  of  instruc- 
tion of  the  ordinary  badness  it  was  a  trifle  more  than  the  average  ; 
during  ibur  ^'ears  of  exceptionally  good  instruction  it  has  been  a 
trille  less.  The  C^uinc^^  committee,  therefore,  now  confidently  claim 
that  they  have  demonstrated  the  second,  and,  from  a  practical  point 
of  view,  b}'  far  the  most  important  of  their  two  proi^ositions.  That 
a  good  connnon-school  education  could  be  had  at  some  cost,  no  one 
ever  doubted  ;  they  claim  that  they  have  shown  it  could  be  had  at 
a  reasonable  and  average  cost.  Under  other  circumstances,  also, 
they  insist  that  a  much  better  showing  ought  to  be  made  ;  for 
in  Quincy  the  number  of  children  in  the  several  schools  is  not 
sufliciently  large  to  admit  of  that  perfect  grading  through  which 
only  th(^  best  educational  results  can  be  combined  Avith  the  utmost 
economy.  For  example,  in  one  school  of  that  town  the  salar}' 
of  the  teacher  alone  averages  $50  a  year  to  each  scholar  taught, 
while  if  the  school  was  full  it  would  average  but  $20.  Taking 
results  as  they  are,  however,  under  conditions  not  peculiarly 
favorable  to  good  results,  the  conclusion  of  general  interest  to 
be  drawn  from  all  this  is,  as  the  Quincy  committee  submits,  that 
the  present  average  school  appropriation  of  Massachusetts  is 
ample  to  sustain  the  common  schools  of  the  State  at  the  high- 
est point  of  excellence  anywhere  known  to  them.  To  do  this, 
however,  it  must  be  intelligently  applied  and  not  ignorantly 
muddled  away.  Honesty  and  good  intentions  are  not  enough ; 
some  science  is  here  necessar}'.  At  present,  among  other  things, 
well-meaning  stupidity,  greediness  of  petty  authority  and  jealousy 
of  superior  knowledge  on  the  part  of  local  school  committees  are 
proving  terribly  expensive  luxuries  to  onr  towns.  Studied  in  the 
light  of  the  recent  experience  of  Quincy,  the  statistics  of  the  Board 
of  Education  show  clearly  enough  that  under  a  moderate  computa- 
tion an  annual  waste  of  some  two  millions  a  3X'ar  is  now  regularly 
going  on  in  Massachusetts  from  the  lack  of  a  pervading  and  intel- 
ligent direction  of  expenditures  for  school  purposes.  A  sufRcientl}' 
good  education,  an  incomparabl}'  better  education  than  is  now 
given,  can  and  should  be  given  at  an  annual  cost  not  exceeding 
$17  per  scholar  at  the  utmost  and  including  everj'thing  except  new 
buildings,  and  no  good  reason  exists  why  that  amount  should  ever 


48 


or  anywhere,  except  under  some  peculiar  and  temporary  exigency, 
be  exceeded.  Tlie  community  now  spends  the  mone}-,  but  fails  to 
get  its  hundred  cents  of  value  returned  for  each  dollar. 


In  conclusion,  whatever  degree  of  success  has  marked  the  recent 
experience  of  Quincy,  has  been  due  to  three  concurring  circum- 
stances ;  —  the  town,  by  its  action,  retained  a  committee  in  office 
long  enough  to  enable  it  to  mature  and  carr^'  out  an  educational 
policy,  —  in  fact  to  all  intents  and  purposes  it  was  a  commission  ;  — 
that  committee  had  a  distinct  idea  of  something  necessary  to  be 
done,  and  of  a  method  of  doing  it ;  —  and,  finally,  the  assistance  of 
a  competent  and  intelligent  executive  officer  was  secured.  This 
concurrence  of  circumstances  is  one  not  eas}'  to  be  brought  about, 
and  if  it  is  not  brought  about  there  is  no  remedy,  —  the  communitj' 
must  pa}'  at  least  twice  what  they  are  worth  for  its  schools.  For 
one  only  of  these  three  conditions  can  any  further  pubhc  provis- 
ion be  made  ;  that,  however,  is  the  most  important  of  the  three.  It 
has  ah'eady  been  referred  to  as  the  organization  of  the  superintend- 
ency.  In  the  State  of  Massachusetts  alone,  as  the  table  facing 
page  46  shoAvs,  over  four  million  dollars  are  now  annuallj'  raised 
b}'  taxation  to  be  expended  on  the  common  school  s^'stem.  Of 
this  large  sum  it  has  been  suggested  that  one-half  is  inju- 
diciously expended.  To  say  the  least,  no  intelhgent  du-ection  is 
given  to  it.  It  is  exactly  as  if  in  cities  and  towns,  mills  or  facto- 
ries were  kept  in  operation  for  public  purposes,  but  the  care  of 
them  was  entrusted  to  shifting  conunittees  chosen  by  popular  vote. 
Just  those  mills  and  factories  are  indeed  running ;  but,  instead  of 
putting  into  them  hemp,  or  cotton,  or  iron  to  be  worked  up,  we 
put  in  our  children.  The  teaching  of  a  human  generation  is  such 
a  xerj  simple  business  that  any  one  can  du-ect  it !  —  The  result  is 
precisel}'  the  same  as  if  a  like  pohcy  were  pursued  in  those  iudus- 
ti'ies  which  pay  the  taxes  which  support  the  schools.  If  mills  and 
founderies  were  run  in  this  way,  you  would  have  very  poor  cloth  and 
iron  at  a  ver}'  high  cost.  So  it  is  as  respects  the  common  school 
system,  — onl}'  the  human  intellect  is  a  much  more  delicate  raw  ma- 
terial with  which  to  deal  than  cotton  or  iron  ore.  The  consequence  is 
that  very  few  persons,  whose  attentioi:  lias  not  been  particularly 


49 


called  to  the  matter,  have  an}'  idea  what  a  wretched  article  of  pub- 
lic education  we  in  Massachusetts  arc  now  getting,  in  spite  of  the 
large  sum  we  pay  for  it.  So  far  as  mj'  observation  enables  me  to 
judge,  the  old  Commonwealth  is  in  this  matter  living  on  its  past 
reputation. 

Neither  can  any  improvement  in  the  present  state  of  affairs  be 
hoped  for  from  the  school  committee  as  it  now  exists.  In  a  per- 
manent point  of  view,  indeed,  the  temporary  presence  of  an  active- 
minded,  restless  man  upon  a  committee  is  more  apt  to  v»ork  an  in- 
jury than  otherwise.  He  introduces  his  changes,  and  does  not  carry 
them  out ;  he  rides  his  hobbj'  for  a  ^-ear  or  two  in  school  and  com- 
mittee room,  and  then  goes  awa^-  leaving  his  hobby  behind  him. 
Teachers  and  scholars  after  he  has  gone,  mount  the  hobby  and  go 
through  the  motions  he  has  taught  them,  for  a  time,  —  but  they  are 
no  better  than  any  other  motions  ;  just  as  a  rut,  after  all,  is  a  rut, 
and  nothing  else.  Education  is  now  a  science,  even  common-school 
education.  Only  within  the  last  thirty  years,  however,  has  it  l^ecome 
so.  Being  a  science,  it  must,  lUiC  all  other  sciences,  be  canied  for- 
ward by  specialists,  and  not  experimented  on  b}'  amatem's.  Indeed, 
the  wise  amateur  is  he  who  will  recognize  his  own  insufficiency,  and 
call  in  the  assistance  of  the  specialist.  In  our  larger  cities,  and  most 
noticeably  so  in  the  case  of  cities  the  size  of  Boston,  the  committee 
system  is,  therefore,  whoUy  outgrown.  It  should  long  since  have 
given  way  to  the  commission.  Spasmodic,  lumbering,  changeable 
and  incapable  of  that  sustained  effort  necessar}'  to  carr}-  out  an}- 
enlightened  polic}',  the  school  committee,  once  its  work  has  out- 
grown it,  invariably  becomes  a  mere  focus  of  intrigue.  Progress 
through  it  cannot  be  said  to  be  impossible  ;  but  it  is  terriblj'  slow, 
and  even  more  costly  than  it  is  slow.  Our  people  have  a  demo- 
cratic, and,  perhaps,  healthy  prejudice  against  coimnissions  ;  but 
they  come  to  them  at  last.  Though  no  one  j^et  has  uttered  the 
word,  it  is  probably  not  unsafe  to  predict  that  the  next  interest  to 
be  entrusted  to  them  for  development  will  be  the  conunon  schools 
of  om'  larger  cities. 

As  yet,  however,  in  Massachusetts,  so  far  as  the  common-school 
system  is  concerned,  specialists  in  education  do  not,  as  a  class,  exist. 
Individuals  there  are  fully  qualified  for  the  work,  men  of  observant 
chai'acter  who  have  reflected  much  on  their  own  experience  and 


50 


are  self-trained ;  but  the  science  of  training  and  developing  the 
human  mind  through  a  careful  study  of  its  laws  is  not  as  }' et  recog- 
nized here  as  a  science  at  aU.  It  is  looked  upon  as  a  business  or  a 
knack,  something  to  be  acquired  by  practice  or  picked  up  by  obser- 
vation. Young  men  are  elaborately  trained  in  schools  of  theolog}^, 
of  law,  of  medicine,  and  of  science ;  but  teaching  itself  is  as  yet 
looked  down  upon  by  educationaUsts  as  something  too  ludicrously 
sunple  to  caU  for  any  special  preparation.  Any  one  can  understand 
the  development  of  the  human  intellect !  — The  normal  schools  are 
consequently  looked  to  to  supply  the  want,  if,  indeed  there  is  a 
want.  This,  however,  is  not  the  mission  of  the  normal  schools 
Their  field  of  usefulness  —  and  it  is  a  very  large  field  —  is  on  a 
whoU}'^  different  plane.  They  supply  teachers,  and  they  have  their 
hands  full  in  doing  that.  The  teacher,  however,  even  the  suc- 
cessful teacher,  does  not  need  to  have  the  enlarging  influence  of  an 
entire  liberal  education.  The  superintendent  does  need  it.  From 
the  necessity  of  the  case,  also,  the  professional  teacher  of  the 
common  school,  especially  the  country  common  school,  must  be 
a  person  contented  with  the  smaller  prizes  of  life.  You  cannot 
have  forty  professors,  or  persons  qualified  to  be  professors,  to 
teach  their  A  B  C's  or  "  the  three  R's"  to  the  1,600  childi-en  of  a 
country  town.  It  is  possible,  however,  to  have  one  professor,  or  at 
least  a  part  of  one  professor,  to  dh*ect  and  infuse  with  his  spirit 
the  others.  But  before  he  can  du-ect  or  infuse  others  with  his  spuit, 
this  man  must  himself  have  a  spirit.  In  other  words,  he  must  have 
acquired  the  principles  of  his  science  in  the  same  way  that  ph3'si- 
cians,  and  lawyers,  and  clergymen  acquire  those  of  then."  sciences. 
UntU.  some  public  provision  exists  for  this,  every  attempt  at  an 
organized  superintendency  will  only  result,  as  those  attempts 
hitherto  haver  esulted,  in  a  dangerous!}'  large  percentage  of  fail- 
ures, bringing  discredit  on  the  sj'stem.  Yet  what  is  there  which 
does  not  fail  when  entrusted  to  incompetent  hands  ?  —  Is  it  a  cam- 
paign, or  a  ship,  or  a  business,  or  a  household,  or  a  college? 

In  this  matter  our  institutions  of  higher  education  would  seem 
to  owe  a  debt  of  recognition  to  the  cause  of  general  education 
which  they  have  been  somewhat  slow  to  recognize.  There  is  a 
missing  hnli  here,  and,  in  what  should  be  an  American  specialty, 
we  seem  to  be  behind  o^her  countries.     The  apparent  attitude  as 


51 


yet  taken  by  oiir  universities  towards  our  common  schools  is, 
either  that  those  who  direct  and  develop  the  latter  must,  hke  poets, 
be  born  and  cannot  even  be  improved,  or  that  any  one  is  equal  to 
so  simple  a  work.  Certainly,  training  their  graduates  for  every 
other  path  in  hie,  they  make  no  effort  to  train  them  for  this.  And 
yet,  taking  into  view  the  vast  field  of  our  common-school  sj'stem  and 
its  intimate  connection  with  the  mass  of  the  people,  it  would  not  be 
easy  to  conceive  any  position  in  which  a  competent  teacher,  a  man 
believing  in  his  mission,  could  exercise  a  wider  and  larger  influence 
over  the  future  of  this  country,  than  in  the  chair  of  pedagog}'  of  the 
past  graduate  course  of  one  of  our  gi-eat  universities.  He  would 
teach  the  teachers.  It  is  encouraging  to  find,  also,  that  an  apprecia- 
tion of  this  fact,  —  of  the  fact  that  our  institutions  of  higher  learning 
owe  something  to  the  cause  of  general  education,  begins  to  find 
acceptance.  To  the  Universit}'  of  Michigan  belongs,  in  this  case, 
the  honor  of  the  lead,  through  the  recent  estabhshment  as  part  of 
its  course  of  a  chair  of  the  Art  of  Education.  Unquestionably  the 
example  wUl  speedily  be  followed  elsewhere,  and  a  spirit  of  scientific 
instruction  wiU  thus  be  generallj^  diffused. 

The  common  schools  are  the  one  thing  in  regard  to  which  there 
is  no  division  of  opinion  in  America.  The  people  of  the  country 
cling  to  them  and  lavish  appropriations  upon  them  in  the  firm 
belief  that  they  are  the  ark  of  the  national  salvation.  In  Mas- 
sachusetts one-fifth  of  the  entire  amount  raised  by  taxation  is 
expended  on  them.  That  under  these  cu'cumstances  the}'  should 
be  no  better  than  the}'  now  are  is  a  significant  fact,  meriting  more 
than  a  passing  notice.  They  are  not  what  they  should  be,  — indeed 
they  are  very  far  from  it.  An}'  practical  experience  which  throws 
light  on  the  causes  of  then*  defloienc}'  is,  therefore,  of  value  ;  any 
intelligent  experiment  made  with  a  view  to  remedying  that  dcfi- 
cienc}^  cannot  be  unworthy  of  attention ;  what  is  true  of  one  is 
probabl}'  nou  luitrue  of  aU  ;  —  and  it  is  a  wide-spread  public  want,  — 
this  pressing  need  of  intelligent  du'cction  concentrating  the  costly 
and  misdu-ected  efforts  to  a  given  end,  and  insph'ing  them  with  a 
consciousness  of  progress, — this  advantage  of  a  trained  superiu- 
tendenc}',  which  more  than  all  or  anj-thing  else  has  been  illus- 
trated in  the  recent  common-school  experience  of  Quincy. 


i( 


PUJEBS  1>F  ItOCKWELL  &  CUUBOUILL,  39  ABCU  STU££T,  BOBTON. 


FOURTEEN  DAY  USE 

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